Leech-Shaped Hole in My Heart
by Ivyblade80
Summary: Betrayal. Revenge. These two words encompassed the very being of Dr. James Marcus, a man so filled with rage that his soul cannot rest until he destroys those who have wronged him. Even death was not enough to keep him from acting on his revenge. He has been given a second chance at life, and he fully intends to make use of it. Now, he will have his revenge on Umbrella...
1. Old Friends

The sound of water sloshing around slowly echoed throughout the room. It was a rather small room, containing only the metal pathways that stood above the dark green water. Not a single fish swam around, nor did any bugs crawl about. The room seemed almost entirely devoid of life, save for the man lying on the floor, almost entirely submerged in the cold water. His head exposed; it lay propped up against the cool metal bars.

His presence here was not new, however. His body has lingered in this room for nearly ten years, ever since that fateful day. Every day it had continued to rot, grey pieces of skin falling away along with short strands of thin white hair, both drifting along the endless supply of water. What little skin had remained lightly covered the man's almost bare bones, each bone sharply protruding against what remained of his body. His clothes had been tattered, countless holes of unequal sizes covering the fabric of his formerly pristine lab coat and suit. He looked, in every sense of the word, dead. And he was, for a while.

Such an unsightly appearance no longer suited him; he had changed almost entirely in the recent months that he spent lingering here.

Gradually, color had begun to return to his sagging, rotting skin as it turned to a smooth and milky white complexion, all wrinkles vanishing without a trace. His hair grew and turned to a dark shade of brown, becoming much thicker and reaching just below his shoulders. His torn clothes fell away and floated along the water, now replaced by an almost angelic white robe. It exposed a slight bit of his toned chest, with thick rope tied around his waist to keep the robe from being too loose-fitting. Intricate blue designs decorated the upper arms, the shade of blue matching the sapphire embedded in his silver diamond-shaped necklace. The neck of the robe had triangle-like pieces of fabric extending from it, adding to the distinct design. The outfit was accented with a weighty silver bracelet adorning his left wrist. Despite being overall very elaborate, the outfit did not come with shoes, exposing his medium-sized feet.

Regardless of how much the man had changed physically in these last few months, he had remained in this place so lifelessly, for so long. But soon, things would change extraordinarily.

The breath of life had returned to his empty shell of a body, allowing him to begin life anew.

A spark now remained lit, amidst the flames that had long since been extinguished. Soon, that spark would grow into a blaze, and eventually, an inferno.

Alas, it was not the time…yet.

He shifted and turned in what was once an endless slumber, on occasion making small, pained moans. He physically was well, his body restored to its prime without error. But mentally…he was not prepared.

His mind constantly changed, becoming enveloped in every memory that had remained with him throughout his life. His memories haunted him, each one constantly flashing through his mind as he struggled to wake. His earliest memories, his final memories.

Each one hit him like a hard slap to the face, yet they were unable to wake him. He could do nothing but sort through them in his subconscious, awaiting the moment in which he can finally reawaken.

He could do nothing, until he finally remembered who he was, and why he was here.

And in that moment, he realized. The reason he is here… The reason he has been stuck in this cold, desolate place for so long, doing nothing but rotting away, is because…

He is Dr. James Marcus. And ten years ago…

He was assassinated.

* * *

_May 22__nd__, 1942_

* * *

The story of his assassination begins in the distant past, starting with his old friend, Oswell E. Spencer. They went to the same college, where Marcus had been well-recognized throughout the school. He was known for getting perfect grades on almost every exam, as well as having the best overall grades in all of his classes.

For all the years he's been at this school—since fall of 1936—no one has ever stood a chance of competing with him.

That is, until Spencer's arrival. He was younger than Marcus, only having enrolled last September, but he quickly proved himself to be a worthy match. His grades were on-par with those of Marcus', so word of his intelligence quickly got around.

Despite never personally meeting each other, it was clear that they had developed a sort of rivalry, silently fighting to be known as the most intelligent student in the school.

Whenever one of them would get a perfect score on one of their exams, they would feel a smug sense of accomplishment knowing that they'd be one step closer to becoming the smartest student. Of course, then the other one would end up doing just as well, resulting in neither one actually becoming the best. This continued on for a while, until a chance meeting in the library caused them to finally formally introduce themselves.

The young man had been sitting at his usual spot in the empty corner of the library, books piled so high on the table that they were taller than he was. He was a very pale and almost sickly-looking man, aided by the dark circles just beneath his pale blue eyes. His long dark hair messily rested just below his shoulders, always worn down and never in a ponytail or anything of the sort. It may have been more convenient to do something with it so it wouldn't be all over the place, but he'd always say that it was pointless, he had better things to worry about than his hairstyle. That may have been a large part of the reason that he never bothered to get it cut, but he also just liked the length, not that he'd openly admit it.

He wore a formal student's outfit, white long-sleeved dress shirt and blue tie, black pants. His usual black blazer had been removed at the moment, but besides that, there was nothing out of the ordinary, really.

Yet despite having such a plain outfit, the same outfit as the other students, he felt he must have looked strange in some way. Why else had people constantly stared at him with looks of concern all of the time? Even now, there were many students that were staring at him with puzzled expressions, quietly whispering amongst themselves. What they had been saying, he couldn't know.

It could have been due to his appearance. Perhaps he was ugly, he wondered. But while he usually didn't fuss over his looks, he still thought he was at least somewhat attractive. Much better than the boring and dull appearances of many of his peers, if nothing else.

However, if not for his appearance, then they were likely staring because they were jealous. Being among the most intelligent people at the university had its pros and cons, with one of the cons being that those of inferior intelligence will always resent you for it.

At this point, he was more than used to their vulgar looks and insults directed at him. It was a daily occurrence after all, but he really didn't care at the end of the day. They could hate his appearance or his intelligence—maybe both at the same time—but it still didn't concern him. To care about the obsolete opinions of people that he knows are below him would be nothing more than foolish. He would simply ignore them, continuing his studies in peace.

Perhaps he seemed arrogant, often viewing himself as being better than others. He didn't see it quite like that though. He knew that he had the intelligence and skills needed to justify it, so it wasn't as if he was pretending to be much better than he was. It went without saying that he was simply better than all of his peers.

He couldn't help but feel almost disappointed in that fact, though. It was a very good school, one that his parents had spent a long time saving up for. So naturally, there should have been tons of highly intelligent people, ones that even he could learn from. He was actually looking forward to that possibility.

Instead, he comes to find that most of the students are of average or below intelligence, only attending because their parents were wealthy enough to send them to it without any issues. Most of those students cared more about making friends and partying than actually studying or learning. Marcus scoffed at those people. Not because they were able to so easily pay for their attendance, he was never the type to whine about others being better off than him. Such a thought was petty, pointless.

He instead disliked them due to their reluctance to take the school seriously. Why had they bothered attending at all if they were not intending to make the most of it? He suspected that many of them will fail, as they should. At any rate their money won't be totally wasted, they probably enjoyed the parties.

Much unlike those people, Marcus took his education very seriously. He had spent all twenty-three years of his life dedicating himself to learning. Even as a toddler, he was very curious and determined to discover new things. It's no surprise that the trait carried over to his adulthood, as well.

In fact, his only real hobby besides studying was performing experiments. He couldn't do anything too extravagant, due to limited funds and supplies, but he made do with what he could. He still learned new things from them, so they were a success either way. Knowledge was—naturally, the most important thing in society.

So, having dedicated his life to obtaining new knowledge, why shouldn't he be arrogant? That knowledge will one day be a great benefit to humanity, so it's only normal for him to feel confident in it. He knew that those fools would all regret their harsh judgement of him someday.

In the future, he'll create something that will alter their lives forever! Then, everyone will look back on Dr. James Marcus fondly, a highly successful man that changed the world with his extraordinary intelligence. It was a lovely thought, it helped drive him towards his goals.

Once he was finished with college, nothing could stop him. He was almost halfway through his journey, having already received both his bachelor's and master's degrees, with about seven more years left in order for him to obtain his doctorate degree.

But no matter how far away his goals may be, he would continue to spend those years expanding his knowledge. That will help give him a better idea of how he'll change the world, when the time comes. He already had ideas, but nothing was set in stone yet. All that aside, he would need to just focus on his studies, ignoring the foolish masses and their even more foolish opinions of him.

That's what he would do now as well, if not for someone bumping into the table and causing the huge pile of books to fall and scatter, many loud thumps and thuds in the process.

"Hm? Oh, well isn't that unfortunate…" The man mumbled to himself indifferently as he stared at the fallen books, the tone of his voice betraying his seemingly concerned words. Brushing his light-brown bangs aside, he shrugged dismissively.

He was a young-looking man of average height with chiseled features that complimented his deep blue eyes. His hair was short, yet long enough to form a small, tight ponytail. His outfit was more embellished than the ordinary student's outfit, with many intricate designs embroidered in gold on the black blazer, additionally opting for a formal ascot rather than the usual tie. Fluffy frills could also be seen from beneath the jacket sleeves, due to what must be quite a fancy undershirt. He was also wearing what appeared to be a very expensive watch, the dazzling gold shimmering from the bright fluorescent lights of the library. Somehow, the man seemed to radiate an aura of arrogance, carrying himself with the utmost confidence and pride.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at the sight. Why was he wearing such overly extravagant clothes? It looked more like he was attending a ball, rather than school. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised given the average wealth of this school's students, but regardless, most—if not all—of the students still wore the regular uniform.

This guy, on the contrary, clearly didn't get the memo, unless he did get it and simply wanted to show off instead. Marcus figured it was probably the latter. Though, he had to wonder. Were those embellishments to the uniform even allowed? He was sure it must have been against the dress code…

"My humble apologies. Here, allow me to help with that." He waved a hand, signaling a nearby student to come closer, then pointed to the mess of books covering the floor. Marcus did raise an eyebrow at the odd motions, but he was more shocked to see the student actually scurrying over to follow his silent demand. The books were picked up and placed into a neat pile, as they formerly were. The man dismissed the student, who quickly went back to his table.

He smiled, more proudly than politely, and held his hand out. "Oswell E. Spencer. And you are James Marcus, correct?"

Oswell E. Spencer… Naturally, Marcus did know of him. He was the guy who enrolled not too long ago, also known as his competition for being the number one student at the school. Despite being quite a few years younger than him, his intellect rivaled even Marcus'. The thought was actually somewhat irritating. Someone so much younger shouldn't even come close to posing a threat to him, yet here he was.

Oh well, though. He was actually appreciative of the fact that he finally had some competition. It was a breath of fresh air, considering how he's been dealing with nothing but absolute morons for the past few years.

That aside, he was never all that familiar with what the man looked like, only ever having brief glances at him while groups of students would crowd around him, praising him for his latest accomplishments.

The sight had always been annoying to Marcus. The other students never commended him in that way. If anything, a student or two would sometimes give him a quick "congrats" as they passed him in the hall, nothing special. And while he preferred it that way, he couldn't help wondering why they acted so differently to him than they did with Spencer. Was he really such an unlikable guy?

Marcus looked up at the man, and then his hand, and reluctantly shook it—having a rather sour expression. "It's not much of an introduction if you introduce both of us yourself, but yes, that's right."

Spencer gave a dry chuckle before grabbing a nearby chair and placing it at the table next to him, then sitting down. "Again, my apologies. It'd be quite difficult for me to not know of you though, now wouldn't it? After all, your name is quite popular around here."

Marcus rested his cheek in his palm, his arm leaning on the table, with a weary expression. He was at a loss as to why this man was still talking to him, never mind now sitting next to him. Marcus was never the social type, so the thought of a longer conversation was quite irksome. It wasn't as if he was shy or anxious, nothing like that. He simply didn't like talking to people.

He was an introverted man that preferred only the company of himself and his books, the way it was always meant to be. Because of this, he tended to come across as rude to most people. He tried to be nice, usually. But it never worked out very well. His anti-social ways always ended up coming out at some point, and then people ended up getting mad at him. That's a big part of the reason that he doesn't have friends, though he also claims he doesn't want any.

"I'm a popular guy, I suppose," he mumbled dejectedly. "But not nearly as popular as you, it would seem. You've only been at the school for a few months, but you already can command students to do your bidding. I'm quite sure I would not be able to do that." He narrowed his eyes at the thought. "They certainly wouldn't listen, at the least." His tone was quite snarky, though it didn't seem to bother the smug young man sitting across from him.

"Perhaps not. I do believe that particular ability comes more so from my status, however, rather than my popularity." A slight frown graced his lips for a brief moment before returning to his usual grin. "You may not know this, but I'm next in line to be earl of the Spencer family. It's a position that demands a lot of respect, you can imagine. Stressful, yes, but quite rewarding." Despite his frown from before, he did seem quite proud of his position, smiling eagerly.

Sighing inwardly, Marcus realized his fear was coming true. This guy was intent on dragging the conversation out. If he didn't speak up soon, then this conversation would never end, or at least not for a while. Not wanting to deal with such a mentally draining situation, he was determined to put a stop to it.

He spoke coldly and sharply as he stared directly at the other man. "That's great, truly, but why exactly are you telling me this? If you believe that you need to pretend we're friends and speak with me simply because you knocked my books over, there's no need. All is forgiven. So if we're done here…" He trailed off, hoping that the conversation would now be over.

It's not as if he wanted to be intentionally rude, but this would be precious time wasted otherwise. He really did want to just go back to studying.

Although, there was also something about this guy that kind of got on his nerves, too. The way he spoke so politely, smiling for absolutely no particular reason all the while. Combine that with his need to dress more sophisticatedly than everyone else, plus talking about his status despite no one having asked about it… It reminded Marcus of someone who pretended to be nice so that they could keep a good reputation, while stabbing people in the back all the while—

—Of course, Marcus did have a general lack of trust in people, so he may have been simply trying to find reasons to dislike him. He wasn't sure why he was this way, but he had been the same ever since he was a child. No matter who had tried to get him to open up and become his friend, he would push them away.

He didn't think of it as a bad trait, however. It was smart to be weary—to avoid unnecessary trouble. Never bothering with anyone, never trusting anyone. He would never be deceived, his trust never betrayed. If that way of living was wrong, then he didn't care to be right.

Regardless, back to the problem at hand. The man, Spencer, was surely confident—that much was certain. Marcus was fairly confident in himself too; he could admit that. But his confidence was based on his actual intelligence and abilities, rather than a measly status in life. He just couldn't help feeling that Spencer, on the other hand, likely puts quite a lot of worth into his status. Too much worth, probably.

Perhaps status is fine in itself, but it often tends to cloud someone's judgement. If you intend to have a career outside of it, you will never fully excel in that career unless you decide to leave your status on the backburner. Otherwise, you may risk spending too much time dedicated to maintaining that position, rather than focusing on what you truly desire.

It also goes without saying that people with a very high standing will likely end up having a very inflated ego, which may cause them to overestimate the skills that they do have. Those were the types of people that Marcus especially wasn't fond of, not that he was fond of many people anyway.

Of course, Spencer was still without a doubt smart, so he may have known all of this already. He may not even be as arrogant as Marcus thought, though that'd be surprising given how smug he has seemed during the entire conversation. Plus, Marcus considered himself to be an excellent judge of character, so he was fairly certain that he was correct in his initial judgement.

Only time could tell, he supposed. Although he also didn't really care enough to know. After all, this would surely be the last time they spoke, thanks to Marcus' rather impolite comment.

The man's smile faded, becoming a much more serious and somehow intimidating expression. "Straight to the point, are we? While it is true, friends do tend to speak to each other, and we aren't exactly friends at the moment. And it was merely a coincidence that I bumped into your table, a chance of Fate, if you will." He smiled politely, noticing the rather annoyed expression on the gloomy man's face. "But I simply wished to take the opportunity to finally formally introduce myself to you. After all, surely you have felt the same way that I feel, a sense of rivalry between us."

He tilted his head inquisitively. "I know you have been at this school for far longer than I have, but it goes without saying that we are both well-known for being the most intelligent students at this school. And of course, those with superior intelligence to others will always feel the need to rise even higher. So it's only natural that we would both feel the need to surpass each other, isn't it?"

Marcus continued to frown, more confused than annoyed at this point. This conversation took an unexpected turn, but Marcus couldn't deny that he did feel some sense of a rivalry between them, and he naturally did want to surpass others in terms of intelligence.

Yet he still was unable to understand this man's intention. Was it really only an introduction to a rival, or did the man have some sort of ulterior motive? Since he was forced into this conversation, he may as well learn the purpose of it, at the least.

"So do you have some sort of scheme planned or something of the sort?" He spoke bluntly, determined to get to the bottom of it. "I fail to see the point of us meeting otherwise. We're both superior to all the others, so? If you want us to be rivals or something, then we can be rivals without needing to know each other. That's how it's been for all of this time, isn't it?" He placed his arms on the table, indifferently resting his chin on his hands.

Spencer sighed with a rather annoyed expression. "I suppose they weren't exaggerating when they said you were anti-social and difficult to get along with…" He mumbled to himself, looking off to the side.

Still, he forced a smile once more as he returned his gaze to the man. "Well, as I'm sure you know, we're both in similar fields of study. You're a man of the sciences as well. And any good scientist knows that they need other scientists in order to challenge their beliefs." He tilted his head, still smirking. "But with our intellect, any ordinary scientist couldn't compare, their objections to our theories would be pitiful, really. I'm sure you've noticed this even with the other students, haven't you? Their intelligence is by far inferior to ours, despite this being one of the best schools in the country." He noticed Marcus' eyes widen for a brief second, causing his grin to grow.

"Yes, you've definitely noticed, of course… So with that being said, I do believe it makes quite a lot of sense in order for us to become friends. With our intellect, we would be able to share ideas and theories, as well as challenge each other on our views. It would help us to become better scientists, don't you agree? Two men with extraordinary intelligence working together, as equals. A lovely thought, is it not?" His smile was quite proud, as if he knew it was an offer Marcus couldn't refuse.

His confidence was a little annoying—or rather, really annoying. But again, he wasn't really wrong. Like him or not, he was definitely smart. To have him as an equal in his career would certainly be a great benefit. He'd be a fool to deny it.

The thought of having…a friend, though. It was irritating, to say the least. What a waste of time it would be, needing to chat about worthless daily events and go out for lunch—so mundane.

And he only met this man ten minutes ago, why on earth would he want to be his friend? He knows nothing about him, other than the fact that he's smart and apparently in line to become the next earl of his family, thanks to him feeling the need to broadcast that fact. But what else does he know? Nothing! He could never trust a man that he's only just met, that'd be ridiculous.

Yet…while he could just refuse the suggestion, that would be stupid. Will he really forfeit the chance to become a better scientist simply because he doesn't like the guy? Simply because he doesn't trust him?

No, he could never. His future career meant more to him than anything else in the entire world, he would never jeopardize it. He would need to put his personal doubts about the man aside, for his own sake.

After a moment of deep thought, he sighed quite exasperatedly. "Yes, I do suppose you're right." He then crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Although, why would you ask this now? You've been at this school since fall, have you not? You've had plenty of opportunities to ask…"

The young aristocrat smiled sheepishly. "Honestly, I've heard that you're a very difficult person, so I had to spend some time contemplating how I may convince you. It's a good thing that I chose to ponder it for so long—the stories about your unsociable attitude were more accurate than I expected. To be quite honest, your manners could use some work."

Marcus scowled at the statement. "I'll work on whatever I please," he spat in annoyance. "I certainly don't need you to tell me about manners, either. You're not all that polite yourself…"

"Me?" The man looked genuinely surprised, his mouth agape and eyebrows raised. "I've been told that my manners are excellent. Every person I've met has liked me almost immediately. Except you, apparently." He frowned deeply.

"Because I don't trust you." He spoke sharply. "I bet you're one of _those_ types of people…the ones that act like they're your best friend, but they really can't stand you—so then they complain about you to all of their other friends. Am I wrong?" Marcus smiled confidently, assured that he was correct in his judge of character.

Staring with concern, Spencer shook his head—less an answer to his question and more just in disbelief. "That's not true at all… Goodness, I'm really starting to understand why you don't have friends. Have you always been this way?"

"This has nothing to do with whether or not I have friends!" His voice raised as he quickly stood, he suddenly blushed in embarrassment. He had just remembered that they were in a library, and there were several students nearby, staring in concern.

He sat back down and slumped back in his chair; his arms still crossed. "…I don't _need_ friends. But we can't all be like you, can we? I'm sure you must have an endless list of friends."

Spencer placed a hand on his chin, seeming deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke. "Hm. I suppose not. I know a lot of aristocrats and such, but I can't say any of them are truly my friends. More like friendly acquaintances, I believe." He shrugged dismissively.

Marcus suddenly sat up, shocked by the revelation. "Wha… Why are you talking about me not having friends then? You're no better than I am!"

He smiled sheepishly. "I suppose that's true. But I have a more likable personality."

"What? You do not!"

"No, I definitely do."

It went on for a while, the two arguing over who had a better personality. Such a conversation was pointless, yet somehow…Marcus didn't entirely hate it. It was the first time he had ever spoken to someone in such a way, and the longest conversation with a non-relative he had ever had. Was this how it felt to have a friend? If it was, then he supposed he might be able to get used to it…eventually.

Having a friend… Such a foreign feeling. One he had never known, one that he never wanted to know. But now that he did know it…it was nice.

* * *

Marcus and Spencer spent most of their free time together for the next few years. They didn't have any other friends, so it wasn't as if they had anyone better to hang out with. They argued pretty often, and disagreed on most practical matters, but they did enjoy each other's company…usually.

Marcus also started to grow accustomed to the idea of having a friend and stopped being so distrustful of Spencer's motives. They really were just friends, trying to help each other become better scientists.

He was still fairly rude, but Spencer was the same to him, both of them often making jokes at the other's expense. Still, it was all in good humor, and it may have been the thing that helped Marcus open up enough to the point of actually being able to enjoy having a friend. He'd prefer their non-scientific conversations be based on them making fun of each other—rather than something dull like the weather, or their hobbies. It was better this way.

They would often study together and compare their research. Despite still only being in college, they were already planning their future studies. Spencer had obtained his bachelor's degree, and Marcus was a few years away from getting his doctorate degree. Naturally, it was important for both of them to start getting ideas and finalizing them. They would likely devote many years of their lives to their primary theory, if not their entire lives. With that being the case, they already had ideas for their main focus.

Spencer thought big, often viewing things through an outlandish perspective. He had ideas and theories that most people would believe to be utterly ridiculous. One view in particular he held dear to him was the idea of immortality and how it could be achieved. He had some valid points in regard to it, and Marcus had to admit, he was somewhat interested in the idea as well.

He did have doubts about how it could possibly be accomplished at this point in time, but perhaps Spencer's determination to achieve the goal was enough to make it happen. After all, a scientist is nothing without the desire to break all boundaries, accomplishing things that never would have seemed possible previously.

Marcus was no stranger to big ambitions either. Sure, he wanted to create cures to some of the world's diseases, that was basically a given in his field of study. And he would do that, most likely. But on the other hand, he also considered the idea of creating some sort of medicine that could greatly enhance human abilities. Strength, intelligence, et cetera. Not like a temporary boost either, a permanent one— simply from one dose.

Such an amazing creation would be a huge benefit to society, it would without a doubt change it forever. And lofty though it may be, he was sure he could accomplish it. Then once he did, all of those stupid students that thought harshly of him would be eating their words. They'd also be eating—or drinking—the dose of his miracle medicine. At last, they'd finally have decent intelligence! They better be thankful, when the time comes.

* * *

_August 12__th__, 1945_

* * *

It had been a hot summer day, the heat causing Marcus to sweat profusely—on the verge of passing out. His hair had been sticking out in several places as well, the humidity not exactly doing it any favors. He desperately wanted to go home, or perhaps under the shade of a tree so he can just give up and die.

Unfortunately, neither of those were an option at the moment. He was on his way to Spencer's house, or mansion. Or at least, one of his mansions. Spencer had a lot of those, but this is the one he was currently staying at while living in America.

Spencer was from somewhere in Europe, so that was his primary residence. Where exactly in Europe—Marcus wasn't sure. Oddly enough, Spencer didn't talk about his actual home much. Perhaps it was because he had so many homes, though. He likely has mansions all over Europe, so it's not like he has just one. Regardless, he had moved here temporarily for his schooling, and would go back to Europe once he was finished.

Spencer promised that even after returning home, he'd still visit Marcus, and that he could always send a private plane to bring Marcus over for a visit. He would be able to stay at one of Spencer's summer villas, a big mansion that was nice and air-conditioned.

Marcus didn't care that much about the idea initially, but he sure was longing for that right now. The thought of air conditioning made him feel like he was in heaven, which quickly caused him to worry that he may have actually died on the way. Thankfully, he still had a pulse.

Eventually, he had made it to what he thought was the place. He stared at the paper in his hands containing the address, and then at the nearby sign that said his current address. It was definitely the place. It wasn't as if there were a ton of castles sitting around here, anyway.

Taking a minute so that he could catch his breath, he finally reached for the golden door handle. It was one of those types where it's shaped like a ring and you have to lift and bang it against the door.

He did that, although the weight of the handle did catch him off guard at first. He figured it must have been made from real gold, because it was really heavy. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, though. Why _wouldn't_ it be made of real gold?

After a few seconds, the heavy door slowly opened. There stood an older man with grey hair and a formal black suit—a butler, no doubt. He bowed, gesturing for Marcus to come in. "Welcome, Sir Marcus. Lord Spencer is in the dining hall, allow me to escort you."

Marcus gulped nervously, slowly stepping through the door and following the butler.

This had been the first time he visited Spencer at his actual estate. Usually when they studied, it would be at either Marcus' house or they'd meet at a diner, something of the sort. Spencer did invite him to his estate several times, but Marcus never wanted to go. It was pretty far, so he needed to take a long train ride, as well as walking for about another fifteen minutes. The overall trip took almost two hours, an amount of time that he wasn't very fond of squandering. Of course, he read and studied while he was on the train, so it wasn't a total waste, but still.

He just wasn't sure why Spencer insisted on them meeting at the estate today. Although they have known each other for three years already, so maybe it _was_ about time that he finally visited…

Spencer could have picked a better season for the visit though, like spring or fall. Even winter he'd prefer, though he wasn't fond of extremely cold temperatures either.

Another problem with visiting Spencer is that he could never get used to how…rich, he was. Fancy castles, fancy butlers, fancy door handles… It was all quite overwhelming.

He also couldn't help but feel embarrassed at his appearance. Not his clothes necessarily, he had dressed somewhat formally, though still not as formally as the butler. But he had been sweating so much, he was sure he was a mess. And his hair must have been sticking out everywhere, too—

"We've arrived, Sir."

—The butler's calm voice shook him out of his thoughts, now noticing that he was in the huge dining hall. It was definitely bigger than his own house, no doubt.

There were pillars that embellished the sides of the room, each one working with the others to hold up the second-floor balcony. A lavish red carpet also covered the floors, contrasting the pure white floors and walls. The long table that stretched throughout the room was a deep chestnut brown, setting it apart from the large number of white furnishings in the room.

Upon closer inspection, Marcus noticed that the table seated not only Spencer, but another man, as well.

The man had been sitting beside Spencer, gracefully sipping a cup of tea. He had short blonde hair, which seemed to have been combed very carefully, not even a single strand was out of place. He had a dark purple suit on, his white ascot complimenting it nicely. His face was gentle and kind, even without smiling. He had a very sophisticated air about him. He definitely seemed to be an aristocrat.

As Marcus walked closer to the table, the man looked up at him—a calm smile forming on his lips, yet he did not speak. Spencer instead was the one to speak up, standing and bowing as Marcus walked in. "Ah, Marcus, you've arrived. Right on time as well, not that I'm surprised."

Marcus attempted to speak, but Spencer quickly continued.

"I'm sure you may be wondering who this gentleman here is. And we will get to that—in a moment. But before that, perhaps you should visit the restroom. You look like you could use a nice…freshening-up." He tried to hide his look of contempt, to no avail.

Marcus frowned but didn't argue it, figuring that he wasn't wrong. "Uh…right… Where's the bathroom?" He looked around, though there weren't any rooms nearby.

"I will escort you again, Sir. Please, follow me." The butler from before was at his side in a moment, looking to him, and then beginning to walk. Marcus stumbled somewhat as he quickly began to follow.

_Who is that guy? A friend? A relative? But more importantly, why is he here now? I thought we were supposed to study today. Is he going to study with us? I hope not. The less company, the better. But it would be strange for him to just sit there while we study, wouldn't it? Maybe he will study with us…_

His mind was full of questions, none of which could be answered until he "freshened-up," as Spencer had put it.

In what felt like an eternity, despite only being five minutes, they arrived at the restroom. Marcus thanked the butler and went in. He did his business, which also included washing his face and combing his hair with a nearby comb he found. Once he was satisfied with his now-pleasant appearance, he left, with the butler there to escort him back to the dining hall.

Upon arriving, Spencer stood and bowed again, smiling politely this time. "Ah, welcome back." His smile didn't last long, quickly changing to a look of confusion. "What on earth happened to you, anyway? Didn't you take a train for most of the way? You were sweating an awful lot…"

"Yes, I did." He muttered sadly, taking a seat at the table. "I still needed to walk for a little while to reach the mansion, though. And if you haven't noticed, it's almost a hundred degrees outside. I could have died." He sighed in exhaustion, just relieved to be in the cozy air-conditioned mansion now.

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, but all right." His smile returned. "I'm glad you did not die on the way, that would have been unfortunate. You look much more presentable now, as well."

"Yeah, yeah…" Marcus mumbled disdainfully, then quickly wondering if he should try to act more respectful, since there _was_ company here. He didn't really feel like it, though. No matter who this guy was, it didn't matter if he liked Marcus or not. This was obviously a one-time meeting, anyway.

Spencer rolled his eyes at Marcus' lack of dignity before continuing. "Well, anyway, onto introductions…" He gestured to the quiet blonde man at the table. "Marcus, this is my friend, Edward Ashford." He then motioned to Marcus as he looked to Edward. "Ashford, this is my friend from school, James Marcus."

Ashford immediately stood and bowed, then offered a hand to Marcus, who slowly shook it. "It's wonderful to meet you, Marcus. Spencer has told me a lot about you."

Marcus quickly looked to Spencer in annoyance before looking back to Ashford. "I would like to think he told you good things, but I won't get my hopes up too much."

Ashford chuckled, not seeming to realize he was serious. "Ah, he told me you had quite a sense of humor as well. I see he wasn't mistaken."

Cutting off their chit-chat before it got too off-track, Spencer interrupted. "Marcus, would you like some tea? I'll have Frankford pour you a cup."

Without even giving him a chance to answer, he called the butler, apparently named Frankford, over. "Lavender tea, one sugar, yes?" He looked to Marcus, who nodded. Frankford swiftly went to work.

As they waited, there was a somewhat awkward silence for a minute, until Spencer finally spoke again. "Yes, I suppose I should explain the reason that I arranged this meeting, hm?"

"Yeah, that'd certainly be nice." Marcus spoke sarcastically, apathetically leaning his head on his hand. Frankford then placed Marcus' cup of tea on the table, already finished pouring it. Marcus thanked him as he stepped away.

"Yes, I would like to know the reason as well." Ashford interjected, staring at Spencer in confusion. "I must say, it was a surprise to receive your invitation. It's unusual for you to invite someone over without a social gathering or event coming up."

Marcus was a little surprised at the man's statement. He thought for sure that he would have already known the reason for this meeting, but apparently Spencer had kept both of them in the dark.

Spencer nodded before continuing. "Well, Ashford and I have known each other for quite a while. We would talk often at dinner parties and such, although nothing came of it until recently. I learned that he, at his college in England, is currently in a similar field to us. He is also studying biochemistry and the like. And he's very intelligent, I can speak for that." He looked to Marcus, almost as if he knew that he would doubt it.

"So, to keep this brief, I thought it would be nice if the three of us could come together and form a trio of sorts. What do you both say?"

After a minute, Ashford, nodding was the first to speak up. "It does sound like a nice idea. From what you've told me, Marcus is a very intelligent individual. Working with the two of you would be an exquisite idea." He smiled kindly, before frowning somewhat. "Although as I've told you, Spencer. I'm only staying in America shortly, so I will need to return home soon, and thus will be unable to meet with you both all that often. But we could communicate through letters, or over the telephone." His smile returned. "However, I will try to visit whenever possible, if I am able."

_So this really was just an introduction after all..._ Marcus thought to himself. He should have known it wasn't anything too serious. Spencer just made a friend and wanted Marcus to be friends with him too. In the past, Marcus would have been annoyed at how pointless this idea was. But now, he actually didn't mind it. He would go along with it. This time, at least.

"I don't really care one way or another…" He realized that probably sounded rude, so he tried to rephrase it. "Er, that is, it's a nice idea, for sure… If you two are for it—then I am too, I suppose."

While his manners were far from perfect, he was genuinely trying to be nice. Having a friend for these past few years must have had some effect on him, because he never would have actually tried to correct himself in order to seem nicer. And this conversation wasn't actually dreadful to him, either. It was a surprise, sure, but not something that was causing him great grief.

The thought of how at peace he was with the conversation was sort of refreshing…but also somewhat annoying, too. He supposed this was his life now, a life where he can actually hold a conversation… It was pretty upsetting, if he was being honest.

Still, this Ashford fellow did seem fairly nice. Quiet, perhaps, but nice. That was actually pretty surprising, given his aristocratic status. He didn't seem as full of himself as Spencer initially had, at least not on the surface. And if he was interested in the same fields as them, then at least they'd have a common interest. Working with him might not be so bad.

He'd have to see for himself just how intelligent he really is though. Spencer might have tried to assure him of his intelligence, but that didn't give him any specifics. He would need to observe him as this "friendship" grows.

Beyond that, he did have some doubts about the friendship. Sure, scientists should have equals in the field to help them grow, all of that stuff. But was there any other point? Did he really almost die from heat exhaustion on the way over here, simply to make a new friend? It was a valid question, one that he was determined to find the answer to.

"Although," Marcus began, "what exactly _will_ this trio do for us? Are we just going to study together? Share research theories? There must be some further point to this, right?" He questioned as he stared at Spencer, leaning his cheek in his hand. "I can't imagine you—of all people—would go out of your way to simply introduce some of your friends to each other. There must be some plan involved, isn't there?"

Spencer frowned deeply. "I should have figured you'd be the one to need every specific detail, I suppose." He then gave a quiet sigh and shook his head. "You needn't phrase it so…maliciously, however. My intentions are pure, honest. Shouldn't you realize that by now? We've been friends for years."

Marcus shrugged indifferently. "I'm not saying you have malicious intentions. I'm only wondering if there is a deeper purpose for this meeting, that is all. But fine then, are you saying that there actually isn't another motive? This is a plain introduction, nothing else?" He narrowed his eyes, very doubtful about that possibility.

Spencer placed a hand on his chin, seemingly thinking. "Well, as of now, it will likely be limited to those things, studying and whatnot. However…" He trailed off, unintentionally assuring Marcus that there really was a hidden motive. "We should simply keep this friendship in mind. Perhaps someday we can form a company, once we're all famous and world-renowned scientists. We can save the world together, that sort of thing."

Marcus rose an eyebrow while Ashford chuckled. That…was not the hidden motive he was expecting. He wanted to form a company…to save the world? Such a cheerful and noble goal definitely did not sound right coming from Spencer. Saving the world is usually for nice people, not…Spencer-types.

"Wow, very noble, indeed. The world's savior, Spencer, hm…" Marcus spoke mockingly, rolling his eyes.

"I think that sounds like a nice idea, myself." Ashford said calmly. "I'm sure with the three of us put together, we could likely accomplish something of that sort. It'd be quite amazing. Do you not agree, Marcus? Wouldn't you wish to make such a large impact on the world as well?" He looked to the pale man, genuinely surprised that he didn't seem to like the idea.

Marcus, being reluctantly put on the spot, gave an exasperated sigh. "It's not a bad idea, I suppose… It's just unusual, especially coming from Spencer, but…" He turned away from them, a faint blush present on his cheeks.

"…I can't deny that it would be thrilling, actually changing the world in such a way… To actually _save_ it…" He mumbled quietly, barely audible, as he tried to contain his smile, unsuccessfully.

He couldn't help his eagerness; it was in a scientist's nature to aspire for such huge ambitions. Cliché though it may be, attempting to save the world, or something of the sort, was something that he was highly interested in.

Spencer gave a quick clap, a confident grin present on his expression. "I'm glad you agree, Ashford. And could it be…do I even hear some excitement in dear old Marcus' voice? And is that a rare, once in a lifetime smile, as well? Don't be shy, now. There's no need to hide it!" He shot a smug grin at Marcus, who instantly responded with a disgusted scowl.

Satisfied with having annoyed Marcus, he returned to a more serious expression and continued. "That aside, I am quite serious. I do believe it would be a fine idea. As typical of my family line, business is in my blood. A company based upon biochemistry and virology would be a perfect fit for me. You both have such a strong interest in that field as well. And since I've become very fond of you both, even Marcus, I see no one better to form a company with." He smiled proudly.

Marcus scoffed, crossing his arms. "Why do you need to say, 'even Marcus', though…" He muttered in annoyance. "Whatever. I'll think about it, when the time comes. But right now I need to focus on my schooling, as you both should, as well." He relaxed his tense muscles somewhat before continuing. "Speaking of, will we be actually getting to studying today? Or was the study session simply a ruse to force this introduction upon me?" He rose an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Again with the schemes and hidden motives…" Spencer mumbled with an exasperated sigh. "Although to be honest, it actually was a scheme this time." He smiled guiltily. "But if you both don't have anything to do, we could spend the rest of the afternoon together. I'll have the chef make us a grand feast." He smiled eagerly.

"Wonderful. I am feeling a bit hungry, myself," Ashford added.

"Wait, does that mean we aren't studying? At all? I didn't come here just to make friends and eat, you know!" Marcus exclaimed in frustration. However, the cheerful expressions and chuckles of the other two settled him down somewhat. After a moment, he sighed in surrender.

"Well…I suppose one afternoon of not studying won't hurt…" He mumbled dejectedly.

* * *

As Ashford had said, he did end up returning to England later that month. Before he did though, the three spent some more time together. Marcus was relieved that they actually did study in the later get-togethers, rather than just sitting there chatting and eating. In their studies, Marcus was able to get a better grasp of Ashford's life and personality as well.

On the surface, he was a calm and gentle man, much like how he was in their first meeting. But beneath that exterior was the drive of a passionate scientist. He—like the other two—strove to achieve new ambitions. His primary interest was in virology and eugenics, creating a type of chemical that could enhance humanity, a goal not so distant from Marcus and Spencer.

He had several thoughts on how that goal could be accomplished, and while he had the funding to pursue such research—he lacked the initiative. It was such a lofty ambition, and with his recent family line not being very involved with science, he was on his own and unsure of the steps he would need to pursue. Because of this, he was very thankful for having met Marcus and Spencer, as they were much more well-versed in science than he was.

Yet despite his somewhat lacking knowledge of science, he was still an intelligent man regardless. He wasn't exactly a novice, if nothing else, and he was still in college learning as well. And with the help of his new friends, he would be able to learn even more.

Although, Marcus did have some concerns about him. He could have all of the ideas in the world, but no matter how impressive his ideas were, they were meaningless unless they were acted upon. He advised Ashford to work on that trait several times, and while he said he would, it seemed to fall on deaf ears. It would be quite unfortunate if he didn't, though. Not only was his desired virology career at stake, but his entire family legacy, as well.

That was the next thing Marcus discovered. Not only was Ashford an aristocrat, but he was to become the next earl of his family, too.

Marcus hadn't known much about the family; he didn't care to know. But Ashford ended up telling him anyway, mainly about how their ancestor Veronica was a highly intelligent and magnificent woman that had led the family to prosperity. She was skilled in many subjects, biology being one of them. She set such high standards for the family; Edward had struggled to keep up. That was the main reason that he had been so determined to become a virologist. He refused to let his family down, to let their legacy fall to ruin.

Marcus couldn't really understand these things. Why had people been so obsessed with their family legacies? Both Ashford and Spencer were always going on and on about their families. He guessed it must be an aristocratic thing, because the thought of him having a family legacy never really crossed his mind. But he also figured that might have been because his family had not done anything all that special with their lives.

His father had worked in a factory, eventually rising to become a manager. His mother had sold her homemade clothes in order to make some extra income, spending the rest of her time taking care of the young Marcus. They might not have been the most exciting careers, but given the time period, they were of the few readily available.

Now, he wasn't complaining, of course. Because despite them not having very grand ambitions for their own lives, they saved all of the money they could in order to send Marcus to college so that he could have his own ambitions. He was very grateful for them, that was certain. They didn't really have a legacy, though.

But who knows? He thought that perhaps someday he would create his own family legacy. Using the chance his parents had given him, he could raise a family of scientists—a family line that would last for generations. When he thought about it like that, he could sort of understand the fascination with family legacies.

But overall, they sounded like a lot of unnecessary stress, so he wasn't all that keen on the idea. He would just try to make his own legacy, leave his family out of it. Then his children could make their own legacies too, no extra pressure necessary. He liked that idea better.

* * *

_March 8__th__, 1964_

* * *

Years had continued to pass. By 1949, Marcus had received his doctorate degree and finally graduated from college. With that, he had finally done it. He had officially become a scientist, majoring in virology with a sharp focus on biochemistry and also biology.

So, he's spent these fifteen years since his graduation on really getting his foot in the door, getting his name out there. He would give lectures about his research at universities, give interviews for magazine articles, anything that could give him recognition.

Although since he wasn't actually accomplishing much as of yet—only talking about his research on hot topics in virology and discussing the occasional minor discovery he had—he didn't actually care about the recognition so much. He wanted to be known for what he had done, not for what he wanted to do, or for something relatively small that he had done. But, he was paid for those interviews and lectures, and the money was quite important. He didn't mean to sound greedy, but his research and experiments weren't exactly funding themselves. Thus, he did what he needed to.

It had been a somewhat chilly day, the gentle breeze wafting through the air and rustling the bright green leaves of the trees along the sidewalk. Marcus had been on his way back from grocery shopping, something that he hadn't done in a while. The only reason he even realized he needed to go shopping was because when he woke up prepared to have breakfast, he noticed his fridge was almost entirely empty, nothing remaining but a few bottles of water. Wanting something with a little more…substance, he decided to go to the store.

It wasn't as if money was an issue, he had more than enough money these days. It truly was just that he forgot, having been so preoccupied with his research. He gets so lost in it sometimes that he's been known to go days without eating. He was almost always glued to his desk, jotting something or another down on paper. When not at his desk, he would instead be at his worktable, conducting whatever the experiment of the day had been.

Other than that, and whenever he was doing his public discussions about his work, he called Spencer and Ashford sometimes too. They rarely got together anymore, only during the occasional stay at Spencer's summer villa in Europe. So, they mostly resorted to phone discussions.

It was still nice to talk to them, but Marcus couldn't help feeling that they all had grown distant over the years. He figured it was simply fated to happen, though. They were all doing their own things, trying to become great scientists on their own. He knew that, yet he couldn't help feeling somewhat lonesome from time to time.

He chuckled to himself, thinking about how sentimental he had become over the years. Having friends must have had a greater impact on him than he had thought, apparently. Why, when he was younger, he never would have—

"Oh my gosh! You're Dr. Marcus, aren't you? I can't believe it, you are! You really are!"

—His thoughts were interrupted by a light and excited voice coming from behind him. Upon turning, he saw the man responsible.

He looked young, probably in his twenties. He was pretty tall though, almost reaching Marcus' height of 6'1. He was fairly slender—not very muscular at all—but he didn't seem out of shape, necessarily. He had semi-long pale brown hair that hung just above his shoulders, his bangs carefully brushed to the side. His skin was pale, with bright blue eyes and a huge smile seemingly plastered onto his face. He had on a thin tan jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath, paired with dark blue jeans along with black sneakers. He had been standing oddly, his back somewhat hunched as he held his two fists in the air, seemingly very excited.

"I… Uh, yes, that's me, James Marcus. And you are?" He asked, wearing an expression of confusion and concern.

The man broke away from his smile, instead looking somewhat surprised, and then suddenly very apologetic. "Oh, pardon me! I was just so excited, I forgot to introduce myself…" He smacked himself in the head. "Ahh, how could I make Dr. Marcus introduce himself first? That's so…disrespectful! I'm so sorry, Doctor. Please forgive me!" He bowed several times, not stopping until Marcus spoke.

"No, please stop, it's fine." He raised his hands, signaling that it was okay to stop bowing so much.

This guy definitely seemed…interesting. Still, he continued. "Why not just tell me your name, instead? I can assume you're a fan of mine, but a name would be nice."

The man quickly stood up straight, nodding as he returned to his big grin. "Yes, I'm a huge fan! I've seen all of your work in the papers and magazines, and I was even able to see footage of some of your lectures, too!" He then frowned, realizing he still didn't get to the question. "Oh, my name!" He smiled again. "My name's Brandon Bailey!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

Marcus warmly smiled and nodded, holding out his hand. "Well then, it's nice to meet you, Bailey. I'm always happy to meet a fan."

The man, Bailey, looked shocked at his offered hand, then quickly beamed as he shook it rather vigorously. "It's very nice to meet you too, Dr. Marcus!"

Releasing his hand, Bailey suddenly scratched at the back of his head awkwardly. "Ah, sorry for being so…hyper. It's just that I'm such a huge fan, and I'm also really surprised to see you here. I didn't know you lived in Raccoon City too. Have you been here long?"

He nodded, setting down his bag of groceries—figuring this conversation might take a while. "Yes, my entire life, in fact. It certainly has changed much since my childhood, however." He glanced around, seeing the large amount of tall buildings and houses around, before returning his gaze to the young man. "When I was a child, it was a much smaller town. Maybe twenty-thousand people, at best. It was much emptier, too, not nearly as many buildings. This whole area looked abandoned back then, actually. It didn't even have any plants or trees, either…" He then realized he was talking too much, smiling awkwardly. "Ah, my apologies. I'm rambling now. My old age must be getting to me."

The young man standing across from him had been staring very attentively, then shook his head quickly. "Oh, no, I think it's interesting. I only moved here about seven years ago when I was starting college, so it already looked pretty developed by then. I can't even imagine what it must have looked like before being developed, so it's nice to hear about it." He smiled cheerfully. "Besides, Dr. Marcus. Aren't you only forty-six? You still have a lot of years left in you!"

The doctor chuckled, then nodded once. "I suppose that's true. I certainly feel old, though. My back isn't what it used to be; you know…"

Bailey crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Well you better take good care of yourself, Doctor. You have a lot of amazing research to contribute to the world still, you can't croak already! It would be such a tragedy! I'd be really upset, too."

The man's sincerity caught Marcus off-guard. He was certainly a huge fan, no doubt about it. Marcus had met some fans in the past, but none as devoted as this kid. It was pretty overwhelming, but also nice. He was very flattered.

Marcus shook his head this time, still smiling. "Would it be? I appreciate you saying so." He chuckled again. "You know, I've never met someone that admired me so much. With that kind of dedication, you may as well become my student!" He laughed, not at all noticing the sudden incredibly intense face that the man across from him had been making.

After a few seconds of silence, Bailey spoke, still appearing very serious. "Really? I could? Really?!" His intense gaze quickly changed to one of excitement. For a brief moment, Marcus swore he could see stars in his eyes…

"I, uh…" He stumbled, not having anticipated the man's misunderstanding.

He internally sighed. This could be a problem… He didn't want to hurt the man's feelings, but he had been only joking. Still, he seemed to be such a huge fan… But he couldn't just say sure, right? He didn't need a student…

_Well…maybe I should have a protégé… I'm getting older, I don't have children… It would be a shame if I never have anyone to take over my work, leaving my work unfinished and my legacy forgotten…_

He gulped. The idea was starting to actually make sense to him. But it was much too sudden! These decisions cannot be made lightly. But the young man had continued to stare at him, his smile unwavering.

Marcus sighed, externally this time. He then reverted to his warm smile, not wanting to give the man the wrong idea. "Well…perhaps… But such a decision takes time. Surely you can't drop everything in your life to become my student. You must still be in school, aren't you?"

Bailey shook his head quickly. "Nope. I just got my master's degree last year, majored in virology. I'm not planning on going back for my doctorate, not yet at least. I was actually hoping I'd be able to become a research assistant, since that would give me the experience I'd need to eventually become a full-fledged virologist." He grinned cheerfully, hoping very much that the man would now be sure about taking him under his wing.

Marcus gulped again, feeling a trickle of sweat running down the side of his head. He definitely had done it now…

He cursed himself for being so weak-willed. In his younger days, he would have simply said no right off the bat. Or actually, he never would have made the joke in the first place. He would have just said something like "You're a fan, great. Are we done here?" The thought made him reflect on how impolite he had been back then. That would be a pretty rude thing to say, so he was actually glad that he became nicer over the years. Still, it did make situations like this difficult…

"Erm…well…" He trailed off, really not sure what else to say. But before he could continue, he saw the man suddenly shake his head.

"You know, it's okay if you changed your mind. I won't be upset! Well…maybe a little disappointed, but still…" He was still smiling, though his eyes did show a faint bit of sadness. He then tilted his head, seemingly thinking. "Although, now that I think about it… You were probably joking anyway, weren't you? That makes more sense… Urgh, I'm so stupid…" He looked down, facepalming.

He had looked so sad; Marcus had no choice. For the sake of his conscience, he needed to take action.

"Actually, I think you'd be a great student, and I'd be happy to have you. Although I must be honest, it was indeed a joke. However, it did make me think…" He smiled, noticing the formerly sad man look up, seeming interested. "There's still so much I intend to do, so much research, so many experiments… Yet even I am unable to evade the passage of time, so many things will be left unfulfilled. And without any children, I have no hopes of anyone being able to accomplish those things in my stead…unless I were to acquire a protégé."

Bailey's expression had gradually become more and more excited as Marcus continued his explanation. By the time he finished talking, he was positively beaming. "S-so…you really do mean it? You really will take me on as your student?!"

Marcus nodded, smiling warmly. "Yes, I do mean it. That is, if you wish to acce—"

"Of course I'll accept!" He exclaimed joyfully, cutting off the older man.

He smiled awkwardly. "Yes, I expected as much…"

Bailey, in his excitement, suddenly started pacing back and forth in circles. "Oh I'm so excited! This is so insane! I had no idea that I would end up meeting you on this trip, never mind becoming your student! I was only going to the store to get some food, but I got so much more! I'm so happy, I don't even care about food! I might never eat again!"

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up his own grocery bag. "I wouldn't recommend that. It's how you end up having nothing to eat but water."

The young man looked at him puzzledly for a moment, but quickly dismissed it and continued his rambling. "Still, this is great! What are we gonna research first, Dr. Marcus? Your latest work concerned the alterations of the molecular structure and possible physical capabilities of leeches in recent years, are we gonna work on that? That's a really interesting field of study, too, if I must say! Not many scientists focus on that, but you were the one to see potential and go for it! Really amazing! I thought you had outdone yourself on your discovery of a cure for that new infectious virus going around, but you never cease to amaze!"

Marcus raised his hand dismissively, embarrassed from all of the praise. "Please, that's quite enough. Besides, we've only just met, there's no need to jump into research just yet. Here, why don't you join me for dinner later? I'm having…" He trailed off, glancing into his grocery bag for ideas. "…cans of chicken noodle soup." Not the most magnificent meal, but it serves its purpose well enough.

Bailey stopped his rant, thinking about the offer. He then quickly nodded, still smiling. "Oh, I'd love to! I guess I probably should eat something, huh. I haven't eaten at all today."

It was almost six in the evening. Marcus internally facepalmed. It seemed that he already had something in common with this kid…

"Honestly… You really should try to maintain a healthy eating schedule. You're still so young, you need to try to keep yourself in good shape. You don't want to end up like me, buying groceries after days of not eating." Marcus began lecturing him, a habit he's obtained after all the years of giving students lectures.

Bailey crossed his arms, still smiling, and nodded. "Sure, if you say so, I'll try to do better. But…" He trailed off, his smile becoming mischievous. "I bet you don't eat much because you're so busy with your research, huh? You're such a hard worker! You say I don't want to end up like you, but I'd love to! Such dedication and devotion. It's no wonder you became such a big name in science so quickly, you must work nonstop!"

Marcus sighed, shaking his head. "That's not exactly something to be proud of…"

Ignoring his remark, Bailey continued praising Marcus the entire way over to his house. Even while they were eating their chicken noodle soup, he would say some compliment or another after each spoonful.

Marcus really began to wonder what he was getting himself into, but he couldn't deny that the kid's energy was refreshing, to say the least. He had been starting to feel somewhat lonely, too, so it was nice to have a friend again. It made things less mundane, for sure.

Bailey also quickly proved himself as a great student, always eager to help and very intelligent. They ended up spending most of their time together, with Bailey even actively aiding in some of Marcus' discoveries on several occasions.

Marcus also eventually convinced him to eat and rest more properly. In turn, Bailey started nagging him to do it as well, so they both started being a little healthier.

Their meeting was unexpected, and their partnership was even more unexpected. But Marcus was glad for it. And in time, Bailey began to feel like the son he never had.

But before long, their research would end up taking an unforeseen turn.

They would soon be receiving a request from Spencer, leading them on a sudden and dangerous quest…


	2. The Founding of Umbrella

_August 20th, 1966_

* * *

"I'm relieved that you all were able to attend today." Spencer spoke calmly, glancing around at the men in the seats beside him.

"With how urgent your message sounded; it doesn't seem like we had much of a choice but to attend, did we?" Marcus replied, shrugging dismissively.

The group—consisting of Marcus, Bailey, Spencer, and Ashford—was currently seated at the large rectangular table occupying the center of the dining hall. A long white tablecloth was draped over the table, along with several small and intricately decorated grey placemats in front of each guest.

A candelabra lay in the middle of the table, each flame flickering brightly—no differently than the fireplace that burns fiercely across the room.

The chairs lining the sides of the table were rather elegant, ebony-colored with a graceful floral pattern embedded into the top, along with deep-burgundy cushioned seats.

A large candlelit chandelier hung above the table, each candle serving to coat the room in a soft glow.

The walls and floor were a bright and shiny white, standing in contrast to the deep green carpet as well as the light green door, which stood not far behind Marcus' chair.

The table—despite having so many chairs available—only currently seated four people. Marcus sat in the corner, with Bailey to his right side and Ashford across from him. Spencer sat at the end of the table, in the middle—the arrangement almost seeming to add to his importance.

The reason for this sudden gathering was because of the letter they had received from Spencer, just four days before. It was short—and very straight to the point.

_Dear Marcus,_

_I have discovered something that I desperately must share with you and Ashford. It is of vital importance, so I ask that you clear your schedule of any plans. I am sending a private plane to pick you up; it will arrive on the 20__th__. I do hope you will be able to attend. I must stress, it is critical._

_Sincerely, your good friend, Spencer_

That was all the message had stated. It sure sounded important, as Spencer made sure to emphasize. But he had been so vague, whatever it had been about—Marcus had no idea. Still, he accepted.

Although, it's not like the message had given him much of a choice, what with a plane already set to pick them up. If he had refused instead…well, that pilot and Spencer both would probably not be very thrilled that day…

He also ended up bringing Bailey along too, seeing as the man was basically always hanging around him anyway. They didn't live together, but they had seen each other almost every day for the last few years. With that being the case, he figured he may as well bring him along.

Besides that, it would also be nice for Bailey to finally meet his friends. Although, Spencer actually didn't seem pleased with the unexpected introduction. He got over it quickly enough, at least.

On another note, he was happy to see Spencer and Ashford again. It had been years since their last get-together. If they had waited any longer to finally meet up again, he would surely forget what they even looked like!

Spencer's hair had been shorter than it was in their younger days, and it was also entirely grey by this point. His face had some faint wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, but overall he didn't look too old yet. His clothes were no different than they always had been, wearing a blue formal suit with his usual fluffy ascot. His clothing style must have been the only thing that didn't seem to change throughout the years.

Something that Marcus couldn't help but notice immediately is that unlike how it was in the past—when Spencer had smiled almost constantly—it now seemed that a permanent scowl was plastered onto his face. It was quite the contrast, especially considered that just a few years ago he still had smiled often enough. Now, it seemed almost as if he couldn't. It was quite strange; Marcus certainly hadn't expected it.

Ashford's face looked more serious and sterner now as well, yet his neutral expression did retain some of the gentleness it once had. He also aged very well, only a slight bit of grey in his short hair, and no noticeable wrinkles. He didn't dress very differently either, wearing a maroon formal suit fit for a dinner party.

Marcus supposed he probably didn't look very different either. His hair had been at the same length that it always was, just below his shoulders. It was starting to get a little grey near the top, but beyond that it was fine. He wasn't too wrinkled yet either, mostly just having slight bags below his eyes. He wore a simple brown suit, not too formal—but not too casual, either.

Marcus figured Ashford probably was aging the best out of them all, although he'd be a close second. Spencer definitely seemed to age the worst, already having the most wrinkles as well as the greyest hair—despite being the youngest of the trio.

Finishing his observations of his friends' aged appearances, Marcus continued speaking about the matter at hand.

"This was awfully short-notice, however. And you haven't told us the actual reason for this visit yet. You said that you discovered something, so I'm assuming it isn't a simple get-together, is it?" He crossed his arms, looking to Spencer.

"No, this is much more important than a mere get-together." Spencer spoke sharply, his voice quite stern.

"Yes, you spoke of its importance in your letter. So, what is this about, then?" Edward interjected, seeming just a tad impatient.

"Well…" He began, slowly peering around the room—until his gaze landed on the young Bailey. He then quickly looked back to Marcus, speaking quietly. "Marcus… You are absolutely positive that we can trust this man, correct?"

Marcus, almost seeming a little offended that this was being brought up again, nodded. "Yes, of course. I told you this earlier, did I not? I've known Bailey for years; we can surely trust him."

Bailey smiled faintly, happy to see his teacher defending him. Yet his smiled quickly faded, reverting to a small frown. "Of course, if it's too much trouble, I could sit this meeting out… I wouldn't want to intrude."

Spencer shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. "No, it's fine. If Marcus trusts you, then I will as well. Now then…" He spoke low as he looked around, making sure he had everyone's attention as he folded his hands together. "Have any of you ever heard of the Natural History Conspectus?"

"Oh, I have!" Bailey spoke up again, nodding. "That was the series written by Henry Travis, right? It was based on his exploration of Africa. He talked about all of the plants, animals, and the customs of the people that he had come across. It was really long, too. He wrote…seventy-something volumes, I think…" He mumbled, attempting to remember the exact number, to no avail.

"Seventy-two." Spencer interjected.

"Right, seventy-two!" Bailey said happily. "Although I heard that there were so few copies of the series in the world, barely anyone knows what was actually written in it—only general ideas."

Spencer nodded slowly. "Yes, that is true. But I know the full extent of his writing, because I have my own copy of the entire series."

Bailey's eyes widened, surprised. He was about to ask how he managed to obtain the copy, considering its rarity—but quickly stopped himself. It probably wasn't too hard for someone like Spencer to get a copy, after all.

"And is there something in this series that is of importance?" Marcus questioned, indifferently resting his cheek in his hands.

"Naturally, yes. That is why I've called you here." He spoke firmly, nodding. "Most of the story does not have any real value. Yet there is one particular volume that caught my interest. It speaks of a flower that Travis discovered, dubbed the 'Stairway of the Sun.'"

Marcus nodded. The name had sounded familiar, so he wondered where he may have heard about it before. After a moment, he remembered.

"Oh, I believe I've heard of that, actually… The flower…it was supposed to grant great power to whoever had consumed it, wasn't it? Most scientists were skeptical though—claiming that Travis had embellished his story for entertainment value, so the idea was largely met with disbelief."

"So that's what this is about…" Ashford mumbled to himself. He looked to Spencer; slight frustration visible in his usually calm expression. "We researched this years ago, as I recall. You're still on about it? I thought we were in agreement that it was a dead-end study—we were not able to discover anything that points to it being true."

Spencer nodded with a low sigh. "Yes, we did. But I have not forgotten about it. I cannot simply let such an excellent opportunity slip by. There is still a possibility of its existence, so I will continue to research it until I know for sure whether it exists or not."

Ashford only shook his head and gave a small sigh, prompting Spencer to continue. "Anyway, to Marcus' point… It is true, scientists largely discredited the story. However, I have different thoughts on the matter. I believe that those scientists rushed to judgement. Based on everything I've read on the matter—as well as from the rest of Travis' work—I do believe he was telling the truth."

He glanced around at their mostly interested expressions before continuing. "His work also states that the flower was an object of worship to the Ndipaya tribe—they did everything in their power to protect it. I believe that is enough reason to believe the flower itself has some sort of importance. And if that isn't enough evidence…" He trailed off for a moment, then resumed his point.

"It's also been said that there were several men in the tribe who did consume the flower. Some of them gained supernatural abilities, able to tear apart any foe with ease—and an extraordinary intelligence that allowed them to build structures so complex that even constructors of today would be stunned. However, the others that attempted to consume the flower…perished."

Marcus placed a hand on his chin, taking in the information. "Hm… At first glance, it does sound like nothing more than a simple fairy tale. However…" He mumbled to himself, thinking about the subject more deeply before continuing.

"It could be possible that the flower contains some sort of chemical—a virus, perhaps… If the stories about those who consumed it are true, it most likely has a very low rate of successfully assimilating with the DNA of the host. If it were able to succeed, however, it could have altered their DNA to the point of changing their own physical and mental capabilities—even potentially enhancing them to extreme levels…"

Nodding, Spencer began. "Yes, that is—"

"That sounds very plausible, Dr. Marcus! What an astute observation, not that I'm surprised!" Bailey exclaimed eagerly, looking towards Marcus in his excitement—who only smiled sheepishly in response.

Spencer's scowl grew at the interruption, but he simply sighed and resumed his statement. "As I was saying…" He sent an icy glare towards Bailey, who gulped in unease. "That is a good theory, not so different from my own. Which brings me to the point of this visit…"

"Don't tell me… You aren't actually considering going to Africa to find this mysterious flower, are you?" Ashford questioned; eyes wide in disbelief. "Even if it sounds impressive, going there would be much too dangerous. You may die, all for the sake of obtaining something that may be nothing more than a fairy tale. You can't be serious…"

"There's that lack of initiative I remember so well." Marcus joked teasingly, chuckling afterwards. "Come now, Ashford. Wouldn't you love the chance to actually discover this potential virus? Imagine the possibilities with it! Honestly, if it truly can alter someone's natural abilities in such a way… It sounds very similar to my ambitions in my younger years."

He smiled warmly, fondly remembering the past. "I always wished to create some type of substance that could grant a permanent improvement to strength as well as intelligence… This virus sounds like it could certainly be a great basis for that ambition, if utilized properly."

Ashford sighed, placing his hand over his forehead in exhaustion. "Perhaps so, Marcus. But what about the risks involved?" His expression turned grim. "The story itself said that the flower is protected by the Ndipaya tribe. They worship it, for heaven's sake! Do you really think you'd be able to pry it from them, if it even exists?"

"Does that mean you won't be joining us, Ashford?" Spencer questioned coldly, not seeming all that concerned with whether he joined them or not.

"I… No, I suppose I am not." He shook his head, crossing his arms. "Besides, I am much too busy with my family duties and my own research, anyway. But…" He began, a faint smile forming on his lips. "If you two are going, then I suppose I can't fully disassociate myself from the plan. If you are able to discover this flower, and you find that it does indeed have your magical virus, then I will help fund the plans. We could make research facilities in order to properly explore the virus as well, if needed."

Spencer nodded, a small and rare smile on his expression. "Excellent, that will be a great help." His usual frown then returned as he looked to Marcus. "So, I suppose you and your student will be joining me on this excursion?"

Marcus looked to Bailey, who grinned with two thumbs-ups, and then nodded. "Yes, I do suppose we will." He smiled happily, thinking about the possibilities that this trip could possess. "My… I had never expected to travel all the way to Africa in order to find a flower that may or may not contain a virus that grants superpowers. I do hope my old bones will be able to make the trek, though."

Bailey chuckled as he shook his head. "Don't worry, Dr. Marcus. I'll be there to help make sure you don't die."

Ready to move on, Spencer clapped loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "Wonderful, it seems we have reached an agreement, then. I don't wish to delay any longer than necessary, so we will leave soon. On the first of next month, I suppose. Marcus, Bailey, you will need to return home and pack anything you may need. It is very hot in Africa, as you must know, so make certain that you come prepared so that you won't end up dying of a heat stroke." He seemed to be glaring at Marcus as he said the latter sentence. "We will meet on the plane on September 1st."

With that, their plan was set. The three had returned home, with Marcus and Bailey packing anything they might need for the journey. They made sure to pack light clothes, water bottles, and also journals that they could use to take notes. Ashford on the other hand, had went back to England, preparing the funds that the group would need. Spencer had already made most of his preparations beforehand, so he was mostly able to relax as he waited for their departure.

* * *

_September 1__st__, 1966_

* * *

Spencer had come to pick up Marcus and Bailey in a rather small airplane, seating only twenty people, minus the pilot. Of course, twenty seats were not necessary for this trip. Only eight seats were in use— three for Spencer, Marcus, and Bailey, along with another five for the security guards that would be accompanying them.

Marcus initially hadn't expected to see the security, but he quickly realized it was necessary. After all, they may have some run-ins with the Ndipaya tribe. Or any hostiles, really. And two old men plus a young man—all with no actual combat experience—wouldn't exactly get very far in a fight. They were scientists, not soldiers.

The plane ride was going to take a while—seventeen hours, to be exact—so they had a lot of time to waste.

Spencer had been sitting in his luxury seat indifferently, barely moving a muscle. With how still he had been, Marcus had thought he might have dozed off. But no—he was wide awake. Marcus figured that he must be too excited to sleep, or…well…do anything.

Marcus, however, had been sitting and calmly reading a book on virology. He had read it before, but it was a good one, and he could use the refresher for the task ahead of them.

Bailey had been sitting beside him, not doing anything except randomly interrupting Marcus' train of thought on occasion to interject some statement or another—usually something along the lines of wondering what they'll find. After a few minutes of silence, that's precisely what Bailey had done…again.

"So what do you think the flower will look like? Will it look like a regular flower? Or will it stand out more? Or maybe, it won't even look like a flower at all!" He questioned excitedly.

"I really can't say." Marcus set his book down to shrug impassively, something he'd had to do for most of Bailey's assertions on this trip. "Travis' book may have mentioned something about what it looked like, though. Perhaps Spencer would know." He gestured for Bailey to ask the man sitting across from them.

"Ah, um…" Bailey took one look at Spencer, who had looked so miserable that if looks could kill, Bailey would surely be dead.

Gulping, he quickly shook his head. "You know, that's okay, actually. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise." He smiled sheepishly.

Marcus rose an eyebrow at the sudden change in attitude, with how abrupt it was. Perhaps Bailey was just being shy, although that didn't make sense—he never had been shy before. Or maybe he's only nervous around rich people, or…something. Marcus mentally shrugged, figuring it wasn't a big deal.

Bailey seemed to remain quiet after that, only making small talk every now and then. He would often seem like he was about to say something, but then quickly stop himself. Marcus wasn't sure what that was about, but he just chalked it up to him being really excited but not wanting to come across as annoying for talking too much.

Not that Marcus really minded the excitement—he was pretty eager too. And with how silent Spencer was being, as well as the guards, it was nice to hear _some_ dialogue. The only reason he was sure Spencer was even still alive is that he would eat whenever the flight attendant brought him food, along with the occasional sip of his wine. Marcus had always expected a road trip with friends to be a lot noisier and more thrilling, but apparently he was wrong.

The hours on the plane dwindled by slowly, feeling like it would be an eternity before they arrived. Marcus had been so bored that he ended up falling asleep after a few hours, time finally beginning to rush by as he slept.

"Attention. This is the pilot speaking… We have arrived, please prepare to disembark." A monotone man's voice echoed throughout the plane, as it had done the first few times he made his announcement. Finally, the words pulled the doctor from his slumber.

His eyes slowly opened as he yawned and stretched his arms, feeling somewhat sore from the uncomfortable sleeping position. He turned and noticed Bailey had been asleep too, lightly snoring.

"Bailey, wake up. Bailey!" He shook his shoulder a few times, with no success. Marcus sighed. His pupil sure did know how to get his beauty rest…

"All right, Bailey. I suppose we'll just be leaving you, then. It's a shame, but oh well. I hope you enjoy the trip back to America…" Marcus grinned mischievously as he stood, noticing the man beside him suddenly opening his eyes wide in surprise.

"W-wha… Wa-wait a minute!" Bailey frantically looked around in a panic, before noticing his teacher's smug grin. He then settled down, sighing in relief. "Jeez, Dr. Marcus… You could have given me a heart attack!"

"Possibly, but it wouldn't be as bad as the heart attack you'd have if we really _did _leave you." He shrugged dismissively before looking around, noticing the empty seats. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Is Spencer already off the plane? He certainly didn't waste any time."

"I guess he wouldn't. Didn't you see how excited he looked during the whole flight? He looked like he was positively jumping for joy. I'd be surprised if he didn't dive out of the plane before it even landed!" Bailey snickered at his joke, with Marcus giving a light chuckle as well.

The two then disembarked from the plane and noticed that they were in a large spacious region of a bright green forest. There was just enough space for the plane to have landed.

Spencer had already been standing outside, speaking with the security guards around him. Marcus and Bailey approached them.

Turning to the two, he spoke quietly. "I see you're finally awake. I was just briefing the guards on our objective here."

"As you know, we are searching for the Stairway of the Sun. We are in the Kijuju region of western Africa. Travis' work did not say the specific location of the flowers—only that they were located within a cave somewhere in this region. We will, naturally, need to locate them before we can begin the most crucial step of our plan."

He paused, crossing his arms. "I suggest you prepare yourselves. Not only for this heat and the long trek, but for any possible attacks from the Ndipaya tribe as well. We likely won't run into them for some time, but it's best to be on guard at all times. So, are you ready?"

Marcus, wiping a bead of sweat that already formed on his forehead, nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am."

* * *

_October 13__th__, 1966_

* * *

"Ahh, I can't believe it! He really did it! He left us!" The young man exclaimed in between pants of exhaustion as he slowly heaved the older man across the grassy terrain—his shoes heavily dragging through the dirt and leaving a distinct trail.

He continued his angered rambling, causing the man he was dragging to wake up, tiredly mumbling. "Huh, hm… Oh, Bailey…what are you doing complaining so early in the morning..?" He murmured groggily, slowly lifting his arms to rub his eyes.

"First of all, it's late afternoon. And second, what do you mean, what am I doing?" He asked, annoyance evident in his voice as he looked down at the tired man. "I'm trying to lug you across this forest, thanks to your good friend Spencer ditching us!"

"Oh…is that so." He mumbled in realization, slowly starting to remember the circumstances that led to this moment.

The trio have been in Africa for a little over a month, spending each day wandering through lush forests and sandy terrains, all in an attempt to find the cave that contains the Stairway of the Sun.

Suffice to say, the journey was excruciatingly tough. Not only were the terrains absolutely exhausting to travel across, but the group had constantly needed to evade attacks from the Ndipaya tribe, who were not so happy to see the intruders in their territory.

On one hand, it was a good thing that they began to see the tribe, it meant that they were slowly but surely getting closer to finding the location of the flower. But on the other hand…it was pretty terrifying.

The tribesmen were not technologically advanced, choosing to fight with spears and homemade weapons rather than the guns of the modern age. That did put the group at a slight advantage, since Spencer's security guards were armed with firearms. Although that didn't mean it was entirely stress-free. The tribesmen refused to go down without a fight, even when guns were introduced.

Marcus in particular had a very close encounter with an enemy spear and his eye, the shock quite possibly shaving ten years off of his life. But thankfully, they had escaped most of their bouts with only a few scratches, the rest of the damage merely being on their mental health.

Yet as dreadful as the relentless attacks were, they weren't the reason that Marcus was being dragged through the forest by his angry student. That situation was instead caused by Marcus' extraordinary intolerance for the heat.

He had tried so hard to remain cool, to fight the elements as best as he could. He dressed in a thin safari outfit—a sun-shielding hat included. He tied his long hair into a ponytail, and he drank plenty of water, also opting to remain in the shade whenever possible. But despite this, he was sweating bullets—the hot sun beating down on him and rendering him defenseless.

Eventually, it had gotten to be too much. He passed out.

Although, this wasn't the first time he had done so on this trip. It had been about three times now. Usually one of the security guards would carry him whenever it happened, but evidently that wasn't the case this time.

As he recalled, Spencer did say after the last time that he would end up leaving him if he kept it up. Marcus thought it had been a joke, but…looking at his current predicament, apparently he was quite serious.

Standing up straight, Marcus stretched, feeling very refreshed now that he had taken a long nap. He turned to Bailey with a smile. "Well, thank you for carrying me. I feel much better now."

"Well, I don't!" Bailey crossed his arms, still looking very peeved.

Marcus scratched his head, frowning sheepishly as he attempted to think of something to say that would make his student feel better. "I…I apologize for passing out?"

Bailey sighed, shaking his head. "No, don't apologize. You can't help it, I know that. I'm not even mad at you, not at all. What I'm mad about is Spencer." He looked away, a frown forming on his expression. "He just…left us! You're his friend, right? Who would do that to their own friend?"

He turned back to Marcus, his frown growing. "I wouldn't mind so much, but in this situation, we could very possibly die. You're one faint away from dying of a heat stroke, and the Ndipaya tribe could be anywhere around us, ready to attack! We don't have any weapons, and he didn't even leave a single guard to defend us. What are we supposed to do?" He questioned, fear evident in his voice.

Marcus nodded, deep in thought. Bailey was right, the conditions were definitely hazardous, and it wasn't the best idea for Spencer to leave them while they were so vulnerable. Still, there was only one real option here.

"You're right, that wasn't very wise of him. But for now, we'll need to continue walking so that we can catch up with him, first of all. Come, let's not delay too much." He motioned for Bailey to follow as he began walking forward.

"I guess…but…" Bailey had been looking at the ground rather dejectedly as he began to walk. After a moment, he sighed, resuming his thought. "Dr. Marcus… I…I have some concerns about Mr. Spencer."

Marcus turned to his student as he continued to move, raising an eyebrow at the sudden statement. "Oh? Well what are they?"

He didn't speak for a few seconds, carefully thinking of how to word it in order to not upset his teacher. "Ah…well… I didn't want to say anything, since I know he's one of your closest friends. But ever since I met him… Well, to put it simply, something about him feels…off."

"Off? Off how, exactly?" Marcus questioned, wondering what his student had been getting at.

"Well for one, he abandons you in the middle of an African forest after you pass out, quite possibly leaving you to die." He noticed Marcus nodding, prompting him to go on. "And…I don't know. I just don't…trust him. He always seems so serious and angry all of the time. And I kind of don't feel like he has your best interests at heart. Like…he's only really worried about himself. Even with this whole trip, he didn't seem very happy about you joining him. He just…didn't care. But despite that, he also made it a point that you basically had to come, going by that letter he sent you in the beginning of all this…"

He crossed his arms, sighing. "I don't mean to sound so pessimistic, or mistrustful. I mean, I didn't have a problem with Mr. Ashford when I met him. But something about Mr. Spencer just…it gives me the creeps." He looked to Marcus with a frown, expecting to see his teacher responding angrily. Instead, he was laughing.

"You make a lot of good points there, you know. And I must admit, Spencer has become very different over the years. If you had met him when he was younger, you would swear that he was a different person." He smiled as he remembered the past.

"He was much nicer back then, always smiling, joking around… Yet my younger self complained about that kindness, always assuming he had some ulterior motive, some nefarious scheme planned." He frowned for a moment, sighing. "I feel I was too judgmental, then. I had desired to remain so isolated that I simply judged everyone for their worst trait, driving all of them away. I was so convinced that I would never need anyone, never need friends…" He smiled sheepishly. "To be honest, I was a brat."

Bailey stared on in confusion, unsure of where this story was coming from, as well as being surprised at how different his teacher and Spencer must have been in their younger days. Noting his uncertainty, Marcus continued.

"Well, to get to the point here… You sort of remind me of myself, when I was your age." He then thought about the implications considering what he previously said, and quickly shook his head and waved his arms. "Oh, not that I'm saying you're a brat! You're not—far from it, in fact. And you're much friendlier and more positive than I was."

He sighed. "Back then, I was always complaining about everyone, making rude yet usually clever comments about them. I didn't have any friends, either, though that isn't a surprise. And I was horribly cynical, too…" Shaking his head to move on, he continued. "In comparison, the two of us would be polar opposites."

Bailey gave a somewhat weak smile. "Really? That's certainly hard to believe. You're so nice now, I can't imagine you ever being like that… Then again, you still do make rude yet clever comments about people, and you still are pretty cynical, sometimes… Maybe I can imagine it, actually…" He placed a hand on his chin, wondering if his teacher really is all that different now.

Marcus nodded with a chuckle. "Yes, well… I suppose in a way, I haven't changed too much…" He then warmly smiled, resuming his original point. "Anyway… I was unable to trust people back then—I always pushed them away. But once I did start to trust, becoming friends with Spencer, Ashford, and you as well… I'd say it has made me a better person."

He then gave an indifferent shrug. "But again, I cannot deny that Spencer is acting differently these days. He does seem almost emotionless, in a way. I can't say I recall him making a single joke this entire trip, something that he did so often in our youth. But…" He trailed off, crossing his arms. "We all change eventually. As I've said, I used to be very different, as well. So perhaps Spencer has just stiffened up over the years. He likely has a lot of serious duties, being an earl and all. I suppose I wouldn't blame him for becoming colder, more detached."

Bailey nodded, still a faint frown on his expression. "That does make sense… I guess I might just be thinking too deeply about it. Mr. Spencer has been your friend for all of these years, so if you trust him, then I should as well. Although…" His frown grew. "I don't know if I'll ever like him."

Marcus nodded with a chuckle. "I don't blame you. It took me many years after becoming his friend to actually start liking him."

Bailey chuckled this time, but his expression soon turned grim. "Uh, maybe we should try to hurry and catch up to him, though… I may be imagining things, but I feel like I can hear a tribesman shouting in the distance…" He shivered, looking around warily.

Marcus—who had looked eager just a moment before—suddenly grimaced. "Yes, ah, let's pick up the pace, shall we?" His voice shook as he immediately began to speed-walk—Bailey following right behind.

* * *

_December 4__th__, 1966_

* * *

The group had been beyond depleted, each one of them looking as though they were about to keel over from fatigue. Marcus had been laying on the cold stony ground of the narrow corridor, panting heavily. Bailey was standing beside him, gulping a bottle of water down to the last drop. Spencer concealed his fatigue better than the others, but even he was noticeably sweating and panting as he leaned against the wall. The guards were all standing straight, although it wasn't hard to see that they were exhausted as well, each one consistently taking deep breaths.

If they had thought the Ndipaya tribe with their spears and cheaply-made weapons were going to be the most difficult part of the trip—they were dead-wrong.

They had faced countless traps throughout their journey through this cave, with the first being a large room where giant flaming spheres ran rampant, nearly crushing the group along the way. And as if the thought of being crushed wasn't enough, the spheres would explode just as they were about to make contact—adding to the terror that they had already felt.

Then there had been another room where it was a sort of maze, they needed to find and pull chains attached to statues in various parts of the enormous room in order to reveal the path. But the room was so large and dark, it was easy to get confused and forget which way they even needed to go.

Then there was the room where the tribe had used strange machinery that channeled the power of sunlight to shoot highly concentrated beams at them. One shot would have been enough to incinerate a person where they stand, and the beams moved quite quickly.

And finally, there were several rooms where the group needed to rotate mirrors so that they would line up in a way that the sunlight would hit the actuator, allowing the lift that would take them downward to function. And of course, like the previous room—the sunlight was quite concentrated. If it had hit someone in the group, instead…they'd be gone.

Beyond his exhaustion, Marcus was in complete and utter disbelief. He had no idea how they had even managed to survive even half of what they had just been through. They were a group of mostly old men; it should have been downright impossible for them to accomplish anything of the sort. That was like some sort of action movie adventure! Yet somehow, they did it.

It did help that the guards were with them, though. They were able to take out some of the tribesmen that had been operating the traps, causing the traps themselves to cease. He only wished they could have done so sooner; it certainly would have saved him from a few close calls…

Standing up straight and moving to the center of the corridor, Spencer spoke. "All right, we all have had time to recuperate. Let us continue onward."

He walked forward to the end of the thin corridor. The exit had been concealed by a large rock, with a slight opening at the edge. He gestured for the guards to get to work, and two quickly nodded and stepped forward, working together to roll the boulder away.

To everyone's amazement, they now stood in front of a large dais adorning the center of the large room—a small plot of bright red-orange flowers growing above and around it.

Marcus, stepping forward, gasped in awe. "Could it be… Have we finally found the Stairway of the Sun?"

Spencer nodded, confidently crossing his arms. "I believe we have. This is what the Ndipaya had been so determined to keep us away from. There's no doubt that we've found what we've been searching for."

Bailey had been grinning brightly, eager and exhausted to the point that he was very close to fainting. "I can't believe it!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "Come on, what are we waiting for? Let's go get the samples!" He stumbled forward into a run—almost running over the others in the process—excited to get a closer look.

"Wait! Make sure you don't touch them!" Spencer shouted in annoyance as he ran forward.

Marcus smiled warmly at all of the excitement. It had been three long months, but they finally had accomplished what they came to do. If they were able to locate the virus within these flowers, then everything they had been fighting for would be worth it. They couldn't get the samples and get back home soon enough, he thought, as he slowly walked forward to join the others.

"You know what to do. Pick as many flowers as you can." Spencer demanded, looking to the guards, who immediately went to work. "We'll test the flowers for the virus, and if we successfully locate it, we'll return home as soon as possible."

"Ahhh, I can't wait… I wanna sleep in a warm bed again, instead of sand and rocks." Bailey sighed in relief, fantasizing about the thought of being back home and away from the dreadful conditions that they had been stuck with for so long.

Marcus nodded with smile. "I feel the same. I do wonder, though." He looked to Spencer, his smile fading into a slight frown.

"How do you propose we leave this place? Will we need to return the way that we came from? I certainly hope not. In case any more tribesmen show up, they surely will be eager to avenge their fallen brethren. And honestly, I'm not so sure my heart can take any more of their spears and crazy traps…" He sighed with deep exasperation.

Spencer nodded, placing a hand on his hip. "Yes, I'm aware of that. We will need to scout the rooms ahead and see if we're able to escape from them. If we can, I'll call the airplane back to pick us up there. If not, we unfortunately will need to deal with the tribe again."

He sighed, his eyes suddenly becoming intense and almost deadly. "However…I'm not in a very merciful mood after all that we've been through. For their own benefit, they should hope that we don't run into any trouble. If we do…I can't promise what will happen to them."

His tone had been so sharp and cold, Marcus and Bailey immediately tensed up. He definitely seemed to be implying something extreme. They couldn't blame him for being mad; the tribe had certainly put the group through a lot. Still, they weren't expecting such a severe threat so suddenly. They wondered if he would really go through with it—but didn't dare say a thing.

"Speaking of… You, over there." Spencer called to one of the guards, gaining his immediate attention. "Go ahead and scout out the room ahead. Come back and tell me if it leads to the outside, or if it's a dead-end." The guard nodded and quickly walked forward to the corridor across the room, soon vanishing out of sight behind the large dais.

"Lord Spencer, I've retrieved the samples." Another guard spoke as he approached Spencer, holding up several bags, each containing the flower.

"Excellent," he uttered as he put gloves on and took one of the bags from the guard. Turning to another guard that had been carrying a large black bag, he nodded. "Set the microscope up." With a nod, the guard got to work, opening his bag and pulling out a decent-sized electron microscope.

After about ten minutes, the microscope was set up, resting on a lower level of the dais, almost as if it were sitting upon a table. Spencer promptly stepped forward, carefully removing the flower from the bag with his gloved hands and cutting a small piece of the stem off. He proceeded to do the rest of the steps needed to prepare the sample. Fixation, dehydration, and then drying. Finally, he carefully placed the sample onto the slide of the microscope and placed the cover slip over it. He looked through the eyepiece for almost a full minute, before smiling and turning to Marcus.

"Well? Take a look." He gestured for the man to come over, which he did.

Going by Spencer's smile, something that he had rarely seen these days, Marcus was already sure that he would see something great. And to no one's surprise, he was right.

Looking through the eyepiece and adjusting the magnification, he saw the small grey particles clumped together, particles that were much too small to be cells. He grinned in amazement. He definitely was looking at a virus, no doubt.

"It would seem our prayers have finally been answered—our journey fulfilled." He declared proudly, smiling confidently. Turning to his student who had been watching from the distance, he called him over, gesturing for him to look through the microscope.

Bailey had already been grinning ear-to-ear, knowing what the results must have been. He practically dashed forward, immediately taking a look through the eyepiece. His face somehow became even more amazed than it already was as he stared in awe. He looked back to his teacher after a few seconds. "This is amazing, Dr. Marcus! We've finally done it!"

As the two celebrated for some time, the guard who left to search the cave eventually returned, walking to Spencer.

"Lord Spencer, I've checked the rooms. There are several rooms ahead, eventually leading to the outside of the cave, along with the ocean. There should be enough room to land the plane on the cliff. No enemies have been spotted on this path, either."

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of relief. "Perfect. It seems we're all set, then. Let us make haste. We will be returning home."

* * *

_February 12__th__, 1967_

* * *

They had returned to Spencer's European mansion, the same one that Marcus and Ashford usually would visit. They didn't know originally, but apparently he had conducted a lot of his own research in this mansion, using the basement levels as a sort of lab. That's where Marcus and Bailey spent most of their time during this endeavor.

Marcus had been at the lab table, staring into the microscope intensely. After a few minutes, he sighed and turned, deeply frowning.

"It's not there. The flowers do not contain the Progenitor virus."

His fear had come true. After bringing the flowers back from Africa—after the absolute torture they had suffered while there—they immediately got to work in cultivating the flowers here. Their growth had gone without flaw, they grew very strongly and in a swift amount of time. Now, they were finally ready to be tested for the virus—Progenitor, as he had named it—in which they didn't have it.

"What… You must be kidding, right?" Bailey nervously smiled as he stepped forward, looking into the eyepiece himself. His false smile quickly faded as he stared at the sample, no longer any room to doubt his teacher's assertion.

"I wish it were a joke." He sighed as he took a seat, holding his head in annoyance. "Well, I suppose we'll need to go and tell Spencer. Great…" He muttered, deeply disappointed by this turn of events.

Bailey nodded, frowning weakly. "I suppose so…" He mumbled as he looked away. "So…what do you think the problem could be?" He looked back to his teacher, hoping he'd have some helpful wisdom.

Marcus shook his head with a half-shrug. "I really can't say. The flowers certainly had the virus when we tested them in Africa, but now…they don't." He thought back to their growth conditions, continuing. "They grew without any problems. They had plenty of sunlight, a good amount of water. Yet here we are, no virus."

Marcus figured he might sound a bit too gloomy, considering this was only their first attempt at growing the flowers. Still, after all of those months they spent in Africa, nearly dying almost every day—he was hoping for some good news. No such luck, though.

"That's true, but…" Bailey spoke softly, understanding his teacher's grief. He then gave a weak but cheerful smile, trying to lift the man's spirits. "Don't fret already, Dr. Marcus! It's true, these flowers were a bust. But we still have plenty more seeds, so we can just try again!"

His smiled softened as he continued. "There's a ton of things that could have gone wrong. There might have been too much sunlight, or not enough. Or even a drop too much water could have messed it up. There's also the soil conditions and temperature to think about, too. We'll just need to try again, change things up a little."

Marcus listened attentively, then nodded. "Yes, that is true. I certainly don't intend to give up yet, that's for sure." He smiled faintly, before then giving a small sigh. "There are so many possible combinations for their growth conditions, however. We can try to match it to how it felt in that cave as best as we can, but we very well could run out of seeds before we make it perfect. Granted, we have a lot left at the moment, but it's still a possibility."

Bailey nodded. "You're right about that... I'm a little worried, myself. But there isn't much else we can do, right? Worse comes to worst, we'll just need to go back to Africa. It'll be a pain, for sure… But we can just think about that when the time comes, or _if_ it comes." His smile grew as he tried really hard to be optimistic. Not just for his sake, but Marcus', as well.

"I suppose you're right. But ah, oh well..." He waved his hand dismissively. "If we must return to Africa and yet again fend off the tribes and their ridiculous traps and ploys, then this time—I'll bring a Gatling gun." He joked to lighten the mood, already feeling more optimistic about their next steps in regard to the virus.

Bailey chuckled, nodding eagerly. "Oh, bring one for me too! And maybe a rocket launcher, while we're at it."

"Will do." Marcus replied with a chuckle. "Now then, I suppose it's time to tell Spencer the good news, hm? He'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

* * *

_March 23__rd__, 1967_

* * *

"That's no good either, huh…" Bailey disappointedly mumbled as he looked through the microscope, then turned and crossed something off of the clipboard he had been carrying.

"Another batch, and still no Progenitor virus. It's been over a month, and we've had no developments whatsoever. Not even any minor ones…" Marcus grumbled in annoyance as he placed his hand on his cheek. "We've done everything we could to match the exact conditions of that cave, and there's still nothing that came of it. I'm beginning to think this is a pointless endeavor. The virus simply will not grow in these flowers." He crossed his arms, quite irked.

Bailey sighed before frowning deeply. He understood his teacher's frustration, he really did. It takes weeks to grow these flowers, so for them to finally be ready and then not have the virus… It was aggravating, to say the least. He was pretty upset about it, too, though not as visibly as his teacher.

They've planted several batches of the flowers, each with different growing conditions. Sunlight, water, soil, and temperature being the main factors they focused on. But in each of those groups—nothing had changed. They didn't contain the Progenitor virus. Unfortunate, yes, but they had to be more patient.

"I know you're upset, but please, Dr. Marcus. We have time, there's no need to rush to conclusions." He set his clipboard down, leaning against the table. "We know that the flowers did contain the virus in Africa, so if it was possible there—it should be possible here. We just need to run more tests."

"Well why are we wasting so much time planting such large groups of the flowers, then?" Marcus waved his hand in annoyance. "It doesn't make sense. We're going to run out of seeds in no time, at this rate. We should plant smaller groups of the flowers, and more groups overall. We'll be able to test more conditions at once, and then we won't waste as much time. Three groups at once is simply not enough."

Bailey frowned. "I don't think that's the best option… It's plausible that only one flower out of the group could contain the virus, so we need to check all of them to be sure. And if we don't plant enough, then it's possible that we could end up having almost perfect conditions—only to have planted too small of a group—limiting the potential for success."

He sighed, continuing. "And if we have too many groups going on at once, it will be much too difficult to test every flower out of every batch. It will just become overly confusing. It makes more sense to do it the current way."

"But if we need to spend years upon years simply trying to get the virus to grow, rather than already having it—we'll never even have time to research the virus itself!" He complained, his frustration growing. "If we continue like this, we'd have been better off just staying in Africa to research the virus, where it actually already exists."

"Oh, because constantly being attacked by Ndipaya while we're doing research is a much better alternative, huh?" Sarcasm was evident in Bailey's voice as he crossed his arms. "Have you forgotten already how many times we almost died while we were there? There's no way we could ever work with the virus while we're there! We're definitely better off trying to grow our own flowers—frustrating though it may be…"

He sighed and calmed himself somewhat, attempting to be more reasonable. "Honestly, Dr. Marcus… I understand your concerns, I really do. I'm worried about the direction this research is going in, too. But…maybe you should take a break from the research stuff, at least for a little while. I think it's getting to your head." He frowned, continuing. "I think it's getting to both of our heads, really. We've both been working nonstop these days. It's no surprise we're getting a little stressed out…"

Marcus sighed in exhaustion, finally calming down. "Yes, I fear you may be right..." He mumbled sadly. "You know that we cannot afford to take a break, however. It's crucial that we are able to replicate the virus so that we may begin our actual research on it."

Bailey opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he heard the distant footsteps of someone approaching. It was Spencer—who probably heard everything—looking as grim as ever.

"Is there a problem here?" He asked wearily.

Spencer hadn't spent much time with the duo throughout their endeavor to recreate the virus, so he would just check in every now and then to monitor their progress. They weren't sure what he had been doing while they were working, but he seemed awfully busy most of the time. He was usually always on the phone having some sort of important-sounding conversation, or just nowhere to be found altogether. Marcus and Bailey were curious about what he had been up to, for sure, but knew better than to pry.

"Just a little disagreement, nothing of importance." Marcus spoke with an indifferent shrug. "Aside from that, as you can imagine, there's nothing new to report. We still hadn't had any success in recreating the virus."

"I see..." Spencer muttered, not seeming all that concerned. Walking to a nearby chair and sitting, he resumed. "Well, that aside. I came here because I have a proposal. Why don't you both take a seat?"

The two sat, both staring at the man in confusion. Noting this, he resumed. "Marcus, you may remember this from our youth… Do you recall what I said when you, Ashford, and I first became friends?"

Marcus rose an eyebrow at the statement, crossing his arms as he tried to remember. After a moment, he spoke. "There were a few things, I'm sure… Uh, I suppose one of them was…" He continued to wrack his brain for anything of importance, finally remembering something. "Oh! There was that one thing you mentioned. It was about us someday starting a company, or something of the sort, I believe..."

Spencer nodded. "Indeed, that's it."

Marcus continued to stare at him, confused. "Er… So…what? You want to start a company? Now?" He frowned, not able to understand why Spencer would bring this up now, of all times. "How would we start a company now, while we're still trying to figure out how to actually recreate the virus? This isn't a very opportune moment."

Spencer shook his head, leaning back further into the chair. "No, I assure you, this is the perfect moment. After all, money is important. It makes the world go around, and it funds the research that we're doing…"

The two still looked confused, so he frowned and continued. "In case you're not understanding… A company would help to bring in funds, which would allow us to further our research. I'm thinking of a pharmaceutical company. We would do the usual, selling pills and medicines—those sorts of things. This would in turn fund our research. Do you understand?"

Bailey was the one to speak up this time, frowning. "But isn't this an awfully big move, considering we don't even have the virus yet? It would be absurd to start a company to fund our research, only to find out we aren't able to recreate the virus anyway. It would be pointless!" He sighed, continuing. "I mean…I do think we'll be able to recreate it…eventually. But as of now, I don't see the value in starting a company. Our current research can't possibly cost that much…"

Spencer instantly sent a cold glare towards him. "You would be very surprised, then…"

Marcus, sensing the new tension in the air, spoke again. "Well, I don't care either way. You can do as you like. As long as I can continue my research into Progenitor, I'll be content."

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with the response. "Splendid. I'm glad that you're on-board. I'll bring it up with Ashford as well. I have no doubt that he'll agree." He stood, dusting himself off. "Now then, I'll take my leave. Keep up the good work." He mumbled as he turned and walked away, eventually descending the corner and vanishing out of sight.

Bailey had been pouting, crossing his arms. After a few moments, he spoke. "Well, jeez. I guess my opinion isn't all that important." He dejectedly mumbled to himself, then looked to Marcus. "Are you really up for starting a company, Dr. Marcus? That sounds like a lot of work, considering we're already so busy with our research…"

Marcus shrugged, frowning. "It doesn't sound very exciting, but if we need the funding, oh well. Besides, it'll mostly be on Spencer to take care of it anyway. I'm sure my actual part in it will be minor—leaving me plenty of time to do my research, with all the funding I could possibly need." He grinned, figuring he was probably catching a lucky break.

Bailey smiled, nodding. "Yeah, you're probably right. Maybe it is a good idea, then."

* * *

_April 15__th__, 1968_

* * *

"Arghh, I can't believe this! I'm really not looking forward to having to go back there. We barely survived the first time; I don't want to risk my life again! We might really die this time!" Bailey whined as he paced back and forth, running his fingers through his long hair anxiously.

"Oh? Weren't you the one that was very calm and rational about the possibility of us needing to go back?" Marcus spoke with a mischievous tone in his voice. "Ah yes, I believe your exact words were that it would be a pain, but we would think about it when the time came. I do believe the time has come now, but you don't seem to be thinking about it very calmly."

Bailey stopped his pacing for a moment to send a glare his way, and then immediately resumed, not saying another word.

"Well, with that being said… I'm not very happy about it, either." Marcus mumbled glumly with an exhausted sigh.

With over a year of no progress, they realized that they had no choice but to return to Africa. For one, they needed to collect more seeds from the flowers, having run out last month. And they also figured they should try to research the flowers more—see if they could figure out what it is about that particular plot of land that allows the virus to grow.

Still, the trek would again be very hazardous. At least it might be easier to land closer to the cave this time, since they at least know where it is. They could land at the spot they departed from last time, which would let them avoid all of those awful traps hidden throughout the cave.

That is, if the Ndipaya aren't hanging around there. More than likely, they'll be somewhere in the cave, possibly right where the flowers grow. That would certainly add to the difficulty of the situation, which was where the problem arose. They likely have even more security there now as well, so avoiding injury would be quite tricky.

"I knew this day would come eventually, but…ugh… I really hoped it wouldn't. I've seen enough giant explosive fiery spheres and huge beams of sunlight to last one lifetime, or maybe even ten..." Bailey continued his complaints, with Marcus nodding in agreement.

"Still, I guess we shouldn't complain too much… We have to persevere, for the sake of our research!" He weakly raised his fist in the air, attempting to gain some confidence. It helped him, somewhat.

Marcus nodded once more. "Agreed. I suppose it's better to die trying than to have never tried at all… Although I suppose we technically did try already, since we did go there before…" He thought more about his statement before shrugging. "No matter. We just need to try again."

Bailey nodded, only then hearing the door slowly creaking open.

"If you're worried about the Ndipaya, then we'll simply need to remove them from the equation." Spencer spoke calmly as he stepped in, looking to Bailey.

Bailey's eyes widened, surprised. "Oh, you heard what we were talking about? I guess I was complaining pretty loudly, now that I think of it…" He then shook his head, instead focusing on what Spencer had actually said. "Wait a minute… Remove them? How?" He asked, concerned and perplexed.

Spencer sighed before taking a seat in the room. "We get rid of them, naturally. We chase them away."

Marcus rose an eyebrow at the statement, looking fairly shocked. "Uh, right… But do you even have the ability to remove them? We had several run-ins with the tribe during our journey, and they were not very fearful in the presence of guns. If they aren't afraid of firearms, what could they fear so badly that they'd just leave?"

"Everyone is afraid of something," Spencer began with confidence. "You need not worry about my methods. Simply rest assured, the tribe will be removed, and we will have plenty of land available to conduct further research."

Bailey crossed his arms as he thought about it. After a moment, he nodded. "I can't deny that it would be a huge help… It might be our only real option at this point, too." He turned to his teacher, faintly frowning. "What do you think, Dr. Marcus? Should we go for it?"

He nodded. "You're right, we don't have many other choices. One way or another, we need to go back there. It would certainly help knowing that we actually might not die in the process."

Upon hearing their responses, Spencer immediately stood. "I figured you both would agree. I will make preparations to chase the tribe away, then. It may take some time, so you may as well get comfortable."

With that, Spencer had turned and left.

Bailey sat down, thinking about what he said. "I wonder how long it'll be… Days, or months? Or maybe even years?" He grimaced, severely hoping it would not be the latter.

Marcus shrugged, picking up a nearby book and opening it. "Well, however long it takes… I suppose we will be taking a much-needed break, like it or not."

Bailey nodded, softly frowning. "I don't really want to, but I guess we don't have much of a choice…" He then shrugged, giving a small smile of relief. "Oh well, we probably _could_ use some time off. Once we do go back to Africa, who knows when our next break will be?"

* * *

_August 19__th__, 1968_

* * *

"Aww… I lost again!" Bailey pouted, staring at the chessboard in dismay.

"I told you we don't have to keep playing." Marcus sighed, shrugging nonchalantly. "You've challenged me every day for the past week. I'm sorry to say, but I think you'll need a lot more practice before you can win against me." He tried to sound empathetic, but he was unable to hide the faint smug tone in his voice.

Bailey crossed his arms, continuing to pout as he glared at him. "Tomorrow will be the day I win, for sure."

Marcus shook his head with an indifferent shrug. He really didn't think that would be the case.

These games of chess were one of the ways that Marcus and Bailey had passed the time while staying at Spencer's mansion these past few months. They really didn't have much else they _could_ do, after all.

It had already been four months, with no news of whether or not the Ndipaya have been driven away yet. So naturally, they had a lot of time on their hands.

When not playing chess with Bailey, Marcus spent most of his time reading. He enjoyed it, seeing as he hasn't had much time to read as of late—due to his research taking up so much of his schedule. And another good thing was that he had an almost endless selection of books to choose from, since Spencer had an entire library in one of the rooms. He actually thought he'd be somewhat disappointed when he does need to return home. He'd really miss that library…

Bailey would read often as well. Sometimes novels, and other times for research. He would often tell Marcus about everything he had studied, usually asking him tons of questions about it. And when he wasn't doing that, he spent some time exploring the mansion. It was so large and with so many rooms, he couldn't help his curiosity in wanting to explore it. Of course, this usually ended with Spencer scolding him and sending him back to Marcus, telling him to keep a better eye on him. Bailey had fun, though.

Of course, they would have already returned to their homes in Raccoon City—if they had it their way. After a month passed with no news about the Ndipaya, they thought it would make better sense to just go back. They could get back to their old lives for a little while, or however long it took for Spencer to contact them with an update on the status of the Ndipaya. Then once they received word from him, Spencer could just send a plane to pick them up and take them back to Africa. Everything would work out perfectly.

Yet for some reason, Spencer insisted that they remain at the mansion. He didn't give any particularly good answers—only that it would be more convenient this way. They didn't truly mind staying at the mansion, they certainly lived luxuriously while they were there. But they couldn't help but wonder why Spencer had insisted on it so much. They eventually shrugged it off and got used to it, but it was weird, nevertheless.

There was _one_ problem Marcus had with staying there, though. Marcus had agreed to be a part of the company that Spencer was creating—Umbrella Corporation, as he had named it. But the problem was, instead of having the minor employee role as he was hoping for, Spencer had different plans for him. He wanted Marcus to become the first director of the Umbrella Executive Training Facility, located in Raccoon City.

Well, soon to be located there. It was still being built, but supposedly it would be ready soon, since Spencer had been working on it for the last few months. Apparently, it would be a facility where students are trained in order to become better employees for the company—something like that.

Marcus wasn't so sure about that, though. Sure, he's given lectures at universities and the like, but actually teaching? That wasn't something he was all that interested in. He told Spencer this several times, but he didn't seem willing to take no for an answer.

He always would bring up how Marcus is one of the co-founders of the company, so he should have a large part in it. Marcus thought that in a way—Spencer was trying to be nice, making sure to give his friend a high status in their company. But he didn't care about the status, the only real point of the company was to raise funds for their research, anyway.

He then thought that could have been another reason Spencer wanted him to accept so badly. If Marcus wants to make use of the great funding for his research, then he ought of work to acquire that funding. Being the director of the facility certainly would put him to work, no doubt. Putting it that way, he did think that he should accept. It would be fair, after all. But then again, how _could_ he accept?

Spencer expected to put this plan into action soon, likely as soon as the facility's construction is finished. But Marcus will need to return to Africa any day now, so it's not as if he could do both. Perhaps if their return to Africa doesn't take too long, he would consider it.

He had no idea how long the trip would take, though. They were primarily going to get more seeds and samples, but they also intended to conduct further research. That could take a while, so the training facility would just need to wait…

"Good, you're both here."

Spencer looked to the two of them as he arrived at the doorway of the lounge-room. They were sitting on the burgundy-red plush sofa, a chess board sitting on the low wooden table in front of them.

"I've been looking all over for you. I've brought good news." He didn't wait for a response as he sat in the black leather-clad lounge chair, facing them.

"And it is? Is it about the Ndipaya?" Marcus asked, raising a questioning brow.

Spencer nodded, folding his hands together as he sat. "Indeed it is. I've just received word that they have been successfully driven from the ruins." He then grimaced, looking away somewhat. "Well, only half of the ruins, to be exact. However, that half does include the location where the Stairway of the Sun grows, so I believe that is acceptable, regardless."

Bailey instantly grinned, leaning forward in his excitement. "That's more than acceptable, that's great!" He turned to his teacher, joy still evident in his expression. "That means we'll be able to go back and study the flower without any problems. We should get ready to leave immediately!"

"Yes, we certainly should. There's no time to waste." He smiled, already mentally beginning to plan the things he'll need for the journey.

"Not so fast, Marcus." Spencer sent a stern glare towards the man, slowly shaking his head. "I believe I have already mentioned this, have I not? I would like for you to remain in Raccoon City so that you may take over the training facility."

Both of the men had responded with a clear expression of shock. While they knew of Spencer wanting Marcus to take over the facility—he sure had mentioned it often enough—they didn't expect that to interfere with the trip to Africa. At least, not when Marcus hadn't even officially accepted the offer yet.

Marcus gave a faint frown, crossing his arms. "Yes, you have mentioned that. But I haven't even accepted the offer, as of now." He trailed off, his frown growing. "I'll admit that I was considering accepting, yes… But shouldn't it wait until after the African trip? We have been planning this for a while."

Bailey nodded vigorously in agreement. "Yeah, we can't just change plans all of a sudden. We definitely need to go back there, or else we won't be able to continue our research!"

"And you will," he began, looking to Bailey. "But Marcus will not."

Bailey's eyes widened, surprised by the sudden statement. "Huh? Wait, you want me to go alone?" He frowned, mumbling. "I'm not so sure about that… There's no way I could do all the research by myself, even if the Ndipaya are gone."

Spencer shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. "You won't be entirely alone. You will be accompanied by many security guards, and we will eventually have more employees, as well." Sighing, he continued. "Beyond that, it will be much easier this time. I will be having research facilities built at the site of the flowers. Although, they will take time to build, so you will be using tents for the moment. Still, it is better than nothing, is it not?"

He gave a slight nod, his frown remaining. "I suppose so, but still…" He turned to Marcus, his frown growing. "It would be really different without Dr. Marcus, though…" He mumbled dejectedly.

Marcus smiled sadly at his student, but before he could respond, Spencer continued.

"Yes, I'm sure. But you will be doing him a great favor by performing this task, don't you agree?" His lips curved into a slight smirk. "Not only will you be able to research the virus, sending Marcus any information you uncover, you will also be the one that sends him samples of the virus. He will be able to potentially change the world, all because of your help. Is that not what you want? Do you really wish to deny him of this possibility?" His smile grew, almost looking somewhat… unsettling.

Bailey gulped, stunned and somewhat disturbed by the wide smile he had never seen on the man's face before, along with his blunt words. Still, he did his best to ignore it, instead focusing on the main point.

"No, of course I want to help Dr. Marcus, but…" His tone was somewhat nervous, looking down for a moment as he carefully thought about what he would say. He then turned back to Spencer; attempting to maintain a more neutral expression. "I know you want Dr. Marcus to take over the training facility, but couldn't he still come to Africa before he does that? We surely won't be spending years there, will we?"

Spencer's usual grimace returned as he gave a small sigh. "I cannot say. It very well may take years. It may take a lifetime."

Marcus spoke up this time, his expression very serious. "But as scientists, we always are aware of the fact that our research could take years, or even a lifetime. So why should that stop me from going? I would be able to research the flower, as well as having direct access to the virus. I would be able to work more efficiently with the flower being so readily available."

"You would work more efficiently?" Spencer gave a horribly dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You could never work efficiently while there. You could barely manage to survive the harsh temperatures, never mind doing your research there."

Marcus instantly frowned, unable to argue it. He had forgotten about that aspect of the trip. The heat definitely would be an issue if he were to go. It would make him a serious liability…

Nodding, Bailey spoke. "Mr. Spencer _is_ right about that." He smiled nervously. "It would be different if the facilities were already built, but there's no way that you'd be able to effectively do your research while we only have tents…" He trailed off, his smile fading.

Marcus remained silent for a few more moments, carefully analyzing the situation. Spencer definitely seemed set on the idea of Marcus remaining in Raccoon, along with Bailey going to Africa alone. And while this plan could work, it was still a very sudden change from their plans of before.

It was also almost as if now Marcus didn't have a choice but to stay in Raccoon, whereas in the past, Spencer made it clear that he would respect whichever decision Marcus reaches. What has changed since then?

As he reflected on this, he couldn't help noting how oddly Spencer had been acting lately. He was so adamant on this particular course of action, and he also had been strangely insistent on wanting them to stay at the mansion for these past few months, as well. Suffice to say, he was becoming intolerably pushy.

But perhaps that is merely how Spencer always is. He always had been somewhat bold, and he may have been fairly bossy on a few occasions. Yet something about this felt…different. Almost as if he had some sort of…ulterior motive…

Well, there was only one way to find out. He decided he would ask one last thing to determine Spencer's fortitude on this issue.

"It's clear that you wish for me to remain in Raccoon so that I may take over the facility. And someone, naturally, must go to Africa to take on the task of sending the samples and research. But…what if that person isn't Bailey?" He crossed his arms, staring at Spencer with resolve. "Bailey is my student; it makes the most sense for him to remain in Raccoon by my side. So why not find someone else to take up the assignment, instead? You have many connections, so it surely wouldn't be difficult to find someone else. And you intended to find more employees for the facility eventually, anyway."

Spencer gave a deep sigh, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair in impatience. "It would not make sense to find someone else, as Bailey is more than qualified. And he would surely be of more value to you in Africa sending you the samples, rather than simply hovering around you in a lab room. Can you not understand that?"

"I do understand that, but that doesn't mean we have no other options. We could still find someone else." He shrugged indifferently.

"You're just being difficult now…" Spencer grumbled to himself in annoyance. "This is simply the best course of action. We would be able to proceed with our plans immediately. That is—if you would finally accept…"

As expected, Spencer seemed unwilling to make even a simple change to his plan. It was very strange.

Marcus would be willing to compromise and just go with this plan, truthfully. He didn't particularly like it, but he could accept it. Yet Spencer was unable to compromise in the slightest and could only give poor excuses as to why he can't make any changes to it. Why was he so dead set on this specific idea?

"You know, Dr. Marcus… Maybe you should just take over the training facility. You need a proper facility to conduct your research, so it would really be a great opportunity for you."

His train of thought was interrupted by Bailey. His eyes had widened—surprised by his student's sudden suggestion—but sighed and slowly nodded. "I do have some doubts, but…that is true." His frown grew, finally relinquishing. "I suppose I will accept this plan."

Spencer smiled, nodding. "I'm glad that you finally have come to your senses." He began, sitting up straight. "So we all are in agreement, are we not? Marcus will become the director of the training facility, and Bailey will go to Africa to study the virus, as well as to send samples of the virus to Marcus—along with any other Umbrella facilities we create. Understood?"

The two nodded, prompting Spencer to continue. "Excellent. In that case, you both should make plans to depart at once. Do not delay too long."

Spencer stood, looking to Marcus. "One last thing, Marcus. Before you return to Raccoon to become the director of the facility…cut your hair. You look like a goddamn hippie." With that, he turned and left.

Marcus was taken by surprise at the sudden demand. He frowned, grasping a few locks of his dark hair and staring at it. "What… I don't… Do I..?" He mumbled dejectedly.

Bailey shook his head, smiling sadly. "I don't think so. But then again, maybe I'm just biased. My hair is pretty long too…" He looked to his own lengthy ponytail laying over his shoulder, frowning. "Maybe we both do…"

That aside, they had a long and serious conversation—with a lot to take in. They both remained silent as they thought about it.

The plans that they had prepared months ago were now heavily altered. Instead of them returning to Africa together, Bailey would now go alone, sending samples of the Progenitor virus to Marcus. And Marcus would go to the training facility, managing the students as well as studying the virus. It was quite the change, one that neither of them particularly appreciated.

Sighing, Bailey was the first to speak. "Anyway… Classic Spencer. He always does know how to change the situation to his advantage, doesn't he?"

Marcus solemnly nodded. "I suppose he does. Although, I do wonder. What does he have to gain from this change? He has become so insistent on me working at the facility, and now for you to go to Africa alone…" He spoke in a whisper, leaning forward as he thought about the situation.

_Spencer…what is it that you're hiding?_

Marcus thought to himself, not daring to say it aloud.

Something about the entire conversation…the way Spencer spoke, even the way he smiled…

Marcus had the strangest feeling. It almost felt like…

…He should be very careful with what he says from now on.

* * *

_September 15__th__, 1968_

* * *

"Are you sure you've packed enough clothes? Enough food? Your toothbrush?" Marcus stood by the door of the Spencer Estate, questioning his student on the many necessities he would need.

"Yes, I told you, I have everything." Bailey chuckled as he spoke, amused by his teacher's constant questions. "Jeez, Dr. Marcus. I swear, you must be forgetting I _am_ twenty-nine years old. I know what to pack!"

Marcus chuckled this time, sheepishly smiling. "My apologies. I just want to make sure you're prepared. You may be gone for a while, so it's important that you don't forget anything. You don't want to be on the plane halfway to Africa and then find out that you don't even have a hair comb, do you?"

Bailey nodded. "That's true. Speaking of, I have that too." He reached down and pulled his comb out of his bag, smiling confidently at his level of preparation.

"Ah, very good." He gently smiled.

With that, there was silence—neither of them saying anything for a few seconds, each one pondering what they could say. After a moment, Bailey was the first to speak.

"I… I sure do hope I can handle this." He began softly. "I haven't been on my own like this for like…ever. This is such a big task, I—"

"You'll do fine, I know you will." Marcus spoke quickly, cutting him off. "I know it must be nerve-wracking, but you have nothing to worry about. You're more than intelligent enough, you'll know exactly what you need to do and how to do it. But still, if you _are_ ever in doubt—we can send each other letters. I'll gladly help you as much as I am able to."

Bailey nodded, smiling somewhat sadly. "I guess so, but I wouldn't want to bother you. You'll be so busy with your research…"

"Nonsense." Marcus spoke sternly as he shook his head. "No matter how busy I may become, I'll always have time for my number one student. And, well…my only student."

He nodded once more, smiling more sincerely. "Well…I'm glad for that." He remained quiet for a few seconds, before smiling sheepishly and then shaking his head.

"Besides, I shouldn't be so negative, anyway. It's not like we'll never see each other again. I'm sure I can take breaks, once things get settled in… Plus, there's no guarantee that I'll even be there for years, either. Maybe they'll find someone else to be the head researcher, and then I can go back to Raccoon—to work with you!" His words were cheerful, but his voice shook—and his eyes revealed an inner sadness.

Those words… Marcus wanted to believe them, he wanted to so very much. But…why did they sound so hollow? They were so empty; it was clear that Bailey hadn't truly believed them, himself.

Why was Bailey unable to believe them? And why was Marcus unable to shake the bad feeling that he had?

It was true—he couldn't possibly know for sure when Bailey would be able to return, or even whether or not he _would_ be able to return. With that being the case, Marcus' sense of dread may have been with good reason. It was possible that this truly would be the last time he ever saw Bailey again…

He quickly pushed the thought aside. He couldn't let himself think like that, he _wouldn't_ let himself think like that. He had to be positive. He would see Bailey again, no doubt. To think otherwise…would be too cruel.

"Yes, that's very possible. Very likely, in fact." He spoke reassuringly, as much for himself as it was for his student. "With your intelligence, there's no need for you to waste time simply sending samples to the other facilities. You should be in an actual facility, working with the virus yourself. And naturally, working with me as well." He smiled kindly, doing his best to hide his own doubts.

"Yeah, I hope so." He nervously smiled, looking away. His eyes then wandered down to his watch, noticing the time and mumbling. "Oh, that time already… I guess I should be going; the plane should be ready by now." He looked back, seeing the small plane in the distance seemingly prepared for takeoff.

"I… Yes, of course." Marcus muttered, the realization that his student really was leaving hitting even harder than before. He was unable to hide his frown as he stared at the man sadly.

This was it—Bailey was truly leaving. It was a strange feeling, really. He had only known the man for four years—which perhaps was a fairly long period of time in itself—yet it felt so much longer than that. He thought that he probably should have expected this. Bailey couldn't just hang around for him for the rest of his life, of course.

Still, he couldn't help his disappointment. He had no idea their separation would come so suddenly. Just a few weeks ago, they were preparing to venture back into Africa together. And now…Bailey would be leaving—on his own.

Yet despite his grief, he felt some sense of pride, as well. He couldn't be entirely sure, but he felt that it may be the joy a parent feels as their child finally grows up and leaves the nest.

Bailey would be leaving to embark on this task by himself, but it was a big step—one that would surely help him grow. So he may have been sad, but he was happy, too. It was bittersweet, as they say.

But now—it was time to say goodbye.

He struggled to get the next few words out—words that should have been so simple to say. After almost a minute, he finally mustered up the courage.

"…Well then… Goodbye…Brandon."

Bailey's eyes suddenly widened at the words, causing his cool and collected demeanor to immediately dissipate. Through the many years, he had never heard his teacher call him by his first name. With the sadness he already felt, now combined with his surprise—he was unable to stop himself. He frowned shakily as he threw his bag down and wrapped his arms around his teacher, embracing him tightly.

"…Goodbye…Dr. Marcus…"

While Bailey was never one to cry, tears began to well up in his eyes, spilling out as he hugged his teacher. He didn't care, either, because deep inside of him…he didn't feel like he'd ever see him again. No, he _knew_ he'd never see him again.

He tried to be confident, he tried to be positive. He kept telling himself that they would meet again…but he knew better than that. He didn't know why or what would stop him—whether it was Spencer or something else entirely—but he just knew…he would never return to Raccoon City.

He knew…he would never see Marcus again.

Marcus returned his embrace yet remained silent. He knew that there was nothing to say, at the moment. Bailey simply needed to let it all out so that he could face his next task head-on—with confidence.

After a few minutes of sobbing, Bailey eventually let go; his eyes entirely red and puffy. He reached into his bag, pulling out a pack of tissues, then tried his best to deliver a smile—albeit a forced one. "Heh… I remembered the tissues, too…" He whispered to himself, using one to wipe his eyes.

He looked to his teacher, still smiling sadly. "Well…this is goodbye, then. I'll really miss you, Dr. Marcus."

"You won't need to miss me." Marcus spoke sternly, not an ounce of doubt in his voice. "Brandon… This is not the end. Far from it, in fact." He smiled confidently. "We will meet again, someday—I promise. Even if I must endure countless treacherous tasks in order to make that happen, I will do it without hesitation. Now, no more tears, all right?"

Bailey nodded, softly chuckling as he wiped his eyes once more. "Jeez…you don't have to be so overdramatic." He laughed again, more cheerfully this time. "Are you sure your old age isn't getting to you, Dr. Marcus? You might be getting a little senile."

Marcus chuckled, giving a slight nod. "You know, I just may be. But still, I am quite serious. I'll make sure that we meet again, so until then…take care of yourself. I'll see you next time."

"Yeah…you too, Dr. Marcus. I'll see you…next time." He sniffled, smiling sincerely. "Next time…" He repeated to himself, holding the words close to his heart.

As much as the doubt threatened to overwhelm him, he wanted to believe it.

He wanted to believe it, because Marcus said it.

If Marcus said they would meet again, then they would.

He believed him.

With that, he turned, beginning his walk to the plane in the distance. Marcus watched silently as he slowly became farther and farther away, eventually ascending the stairs of the plane. He turned, waving enthusiastically.

Marcus chuckled as he waved back, then gave a faint frown as the man entered the door—with it immediately closing behind him. Within minutes, it had started—accelerating and lifting itself off the ground, and flying slowly into the distance.

Marcus crossed his arms as he watched idly, deep in thought. After the plane was completely out of view, he sighed, his arms quickly falling to his sides as he gazed at the bright blue sky one last time.

"I won't disappoint you, Brandon. I'll never betray your trust, nor your hopes…I promise."

He turned, entering the door to Spencer's Estate. There was no time to waste, for it would soon be time for his own departure…

It was time to go to the Umbrella Executive Training Center—in Raccoon City.


	3. Sow the Seeds of Doubt

_October 1st, 1968_

* * *

Not long after Bailey's departure, Marcus had returned to Raccoon City, awaiting the day that the training facility would be finished with its construction. To his relief, it didn't take too long. By the beginning of October, it was complete, so he immediately made plans to depart for it.

Although, looking at the address, Marcus couldn't help noticing that the facility location was rather odd. It was extremely isolated, located deep within Raccoon Forest—a large and expansive forest in the north-west of town. The only way to reach the facility was by train—the Ecliptic Express, specifically. It was a luxurious train owned by Spencer, who had recently bought it for the sole purpose of taking employees and supplies to the training center.

The train ride took just over three hours, not including the walking distance to the station, which was about a half-hour from Marcus' house. Truthfully, the overall trip was a bit too long for his liking. But seeing as he would be primarily living at the facility from now on, thus not needing to take the train too often—he figured that he probably shouldn't mind so much.

The train itself was also quite incredible, Marcus noted. Luxurious was almost an understatement. The dark grey seats were so soft and cushioned that it felt more like he was sitting on a sofa, rather than actual train seats. The floors of the train were also almost entirely covered by various plush carpets, each one tastefully designed. Every passenger car also contained bright fluorescent chandeliers, accompanying the several small lamps stationed on the sleek wooden walls.

As he stared out the window—watching as the array of robust trees continuously passed them by—he idly listened in on the discussions of the passengers. There weren't too many of them, maybe almost thirty, including him. Each of those individuals would be students and employees of the facility, soon enough. Many of them chatted amongst themselves, usually in reference to them wondering what their training will be like, and why they wish to work for Umbrella.

He gave a quiet sigh as he listened to their banter. The group seemed like a mostly good-natured bunch, that much was true. But he couldn't help his lack of interest in them—or rather, his lack of interest in teaching them.

It seemed like such a hassle, especially when the only reason they had even established Umbrella was so that they could acquire more funding for their research. Having a school just to teach people to become better employees and "future leaders" of that company? It just seemed so…unnecessary. He would much rather—

"Excuse me. You're Dr. Marcus, right?" A gruff voice spoke, immediately bringing the man out of his thoughts.

Marcus turned to the man, surprised by the sudden interruption. The source of the voice was a tall and rather muscular fellow, the bangs of his short black hair partially concealing one of his deep brown eyes. His manner of dress was a bit less formal than that of the other students and employees—the jacket of his suit being removed, fully exposing his white button-up shirt and black tie. His pants were navy blue, with shiny black loafers to match.

Finishing his brief observations, Marcus gave a polite smile with a nod. "Ah, yes, that's me. Did you need something?"

The man returned the smile, nodding. "Yeah, I just wanted to introduce myself." He held out his hand, which Marcus quickly shook. "The name's Adam Davids. Not sure if the higher-ups told you this already, but I'm the assistant director of the facility. Mind if I take a seat?"

Marcus nodded, gesturing to the seat beside him. "Please, go right ahead." He shifted closer to the window, prompting the man to sit down. Before the man could say anything else, Marcus continued, crossing his arms. "Although, I must say… This is news to me. Spencer hadn't told me that there would be an assistant director."

That seemed like a rather important detail, so prior notice would have been nice. But he supposed it didn't matter too much, ultimately.

Davids rose a questioning brow. "Oh, that so? Well, guess it _was_ sort of a last-minute decision. I only found out I got the position about a week ago, myself."

"Really? Well, that aside…" He shook his head, moving on. "Welcome to Umbrella, then. We're happy to have you in our new but rapidly expanding company, where we're sure you'll do great work. And…hm, was there anything else…" He remained silent for a few seconds, attempting to remember if there were any other formal statements he was supposed to say to the employees. There definitely were, but they were surely escaping his brain at the moment.

He laughed with a shake of his head. "Don't worry about it, I already got the full speech in the acceptance letter."

Marcus chuckled, nodding. "Ah, that's a relief." He resumed a neutral expression as he continued. "So, have you been briefed on your duties as assistant director yet?"

"Yeah, I have." He spoke with a nod. "Mainly my job is to help you any way I can, but I'm also the head instructor in charge of teaching the students."

Marcus gave a low and almost inaudible gasp at that, hoping that his surprise wasn't too obvious.

Head instructor… Could it be? If there's an actual teacher for the students, then surely Marcus wouldn't need to take part in it as well, would he? If that were the case, then his job as director could already appear a lot more favorable…

He tried to maintain an indifferent expression as he responded, not wanting to come across as too eager. "Oh, so teaching the students is your responsibility…" He mumbled quietly. "You said that you're the head instructor, so does that mean that there are others as well?"

"That's right. I was told there's three more, each one teaching a different field of science." He then pointed to himself, confidently smirking. "As the primary instructor, I'm in charge of biology, but also business and ethics—all of them being the most important subjects in this school."

Marcus nodded as he listened, then smiled as he concluded his explanation. "Is that so? It certainly seems like the students will be in good hands, in that case."

The relief Marcus had felt in that moment was nearly immeasurable. He really didn't need to teach the students himself, there were plenty of teachers available to do it instead! This was truly a remarkable discovery. He was certainly glad that Davids decided to start up this conversation—a burden was truly lifted from his shoulders. He'll have plenty of time to do his research now!

"Oh, there's another thing too. Guess they might not have told you about this either, but…" He trailed off before giving a half-shrug. "You'll need to give speeches to the students from time to time too. Nothing big, just telling them what's expected of them, congratulating them on any of their academic achievements—that kind of stuff."

_Well…I suppose that's slightly less time to do my research, but… _

He thought to himself sadly before nodding and forcing a smile. "Yes, of course… That's to be expected. I _am_ the director, after all…"

Still, he would have much more time for his research than he initially expected. Giving a speech every now and then certainly wouldn't hurt him, so he'd be able to accept that. It was still, overall, very good news.

With that in mind, he was able to relax a little for the rest of the ride. He was instead able to focus on other things—like where he'll conduct his research in the facility, what scientific equipment that it currently has, and also what the building actually looks like.

Thinking about it, Spencer hadn't told him much…or anything, really. What the facility looked like, how big it was, what functions each of the rooms served…it was all a mystery to him. It did make him wonder why Spencer hadn't been a bit more generous with the information he gave him, but he just figured he must have been too busy to mention anything. But that was fine—he'd be finding the answers to his questions soon enough.

He became so lost in his train of thought that he didn't even realize that they had arrived—at least not until Davids nudged his shoulder to tell him. Those three hours had gone faster than expected, and he had been so busy thinking that he didn't even have time to read—much to his dismay.

Disembarking, they were in an incredibly massive room—a sort of station for the train. It was a very dull silver, due to both the concrete floors and walls. But despite its size, its contents were few and far between. Besides the train and its rails, there were only a few large blue crates in the corner, along with a very tall metal scaffolding, likely used to inspect the top of the train when needed.

There was an elevator on the north wall, and on the opposite side was a heavy iron door that would lead to the upper levels of the facility.

Everyone had been standing still, blankly looking around as they wondered if they should just continue to the next room, or if someone would guide them. Marcus, too, was one of those people.

But amidst everyone's confusion, Marcus suddenly had a thought. Was _he_ supposed to lead them? He was the director, so it would make sense if he was supposed to. But he doesn't even know anything about the structure of the facility! He may end up getting everyone lost, or something of the sort. And if that happened…he would never live it down.

"Hold on, excuse me! Sorry, sorry, coming through…"

His gradually escalating panic was halted as he looked back to the small crowd of people, seeing one of the men slowly making his way through and stepping to the front. After successfully fighting his way to the front, he turned to face the crowd.

Placing his hands on his hips with a cheerful grin, he spoke. "Hey there, everyone! Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Cole Savage, one of the employees here at the facility." He offered a quick wave of his hand, his enthusiastic smile unfaltering. "Nice to meet you all!"

The man, Savage, was somewhat short and slim. He had pale blonde hair that reached just below his chin, with bright green eyes that lay behind his black narrow-rim glasses. He also wore a navy-blue suit with a yellow tie and brown loafers. He certainly looked professional, which caused Marcus to wonder what his job position could have been. After a few seconds of pondering it, he settled on the assumption that he may have been one of the other teachers that Davids mentioned.

Noticing everyone still standing with puzzled stares, the man gave a nonchalant shrug and continued his speech. "Well, you'll be seeing me around school sometimes, I'm sure. But anyway, since I was briefed on the facility functions by one of the higher-ups—right now, I'll be your tour guide!" He spun around and gestured for everyone to follow him.

He resumed speaking as he walked towards the door. "Don't worry about getting lost or anything. The facility's pretty big, but it's easy to get around once you get the hang of it. I won't be showing off every single room, due to time constraints, but I'll tell you about the most important ones. So for now, we'll go through here." Just as he reached for the door's handle, a student in the audience spoke up.

"What about that elevator over there?" The man asked, pointing to the elevator across the room. "Where does that lead to?"

Savage grinned, happy to have an eager audience. "Good question! That particular elevator leads to a nearby water treatment plant as well as a factory—both owned by Umbrella Corporation." He then gave a half-shrug, faintly frowning. "Although students are prohibited from going there, so keep that in mind! Not that you'll have much reason to go there. You're all just here to learn, so there's really no reason to go exploring any factories or treatment plants, you know?" With that, he opened the door and walked through, with the rest of the group following behind.

The door led directly onto a silver metal grating that stood above dark green waters. Most of the group didn't pay any mind to the room structure itself though, as they were all quite busy wincing from the horrid smell of the room. It smelled of rotten eggs that had been left in the sun for years, and perhaps a slight stench of death…

Savage gave a nervous frown as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "That smell? It's from that treatment plant that I mentioned. This water flows from there to here, and as I'm sure you know by now—it sure doesn't smell like flowers!" He attempted to laugh at his own joke, only to end up gagging from the smell.

"Ahem, anyway…" He cleared his throat, attempting to regain composure. "In case you're wondering, Umbrella had no choice but to build the facility with this sewage water included. Given the geography of the area, it would have been impossible for the train to directly enter the facility through the upper area. So, sorry to say, but crossing this room is the only way into the facility."

Therefore, all the group could do was cross the room and pray that the grating never gives out, forcing them to go for a stroll through fresh sewage water…

Besides a chained-up door that led to more of the sewers, the only other exit in the room was by going up the ladder on the other side. It was an unorthodox way of entering a school, for sure, but they had little choice.

Each one took turns ascending the ladder, making their way into the main hall of the facility through the hatch in the floor. Finally, it had felt more like they were in an actual training facility, rather than the sewers…

The room was very large, albeit a bit dreary. The walls were a dark grey, with the floor being composed of black and white tiles in a checkered pattern. There was also a dark red carpet that covered the middle of the floor along with a large portion of the wide staircase. The bottom of the rug displayed a big red and white octagon shape—the official Umbrella Corporation logo.

Marcus initially wasn't sure why Spencer had chosen that logo, nor the name itself. It seemed unusual, especially for a pharmaceutical company. But when he questioned him about it, the answer he received was even more unusual. The company was named Umbrella because through their medical products, they would act as an "umbrella" for the masses, shielding them from the rain of horrid diseases and illnesses…

Marcus had burst out in laughter at the explanation, which did end up aggravating Spencer. Still, he couldn't help it. It sounded ridiculous, and it sounded even worse coming from Spencer. He thought that perhaps businesses are just meant to have silly-sounding names, maybe so that they will be more memorable…or something. However, there surely could have been better choices, couldn't there?

Oh well, he figured. He's not a businessman, so he'll just need to accept Spencer's naming tactics—odd though they may be.

That aside, Marcus had noticed something else about the room. There weren't many decorations at all, the walls being very barren and the tables completely devoid of any embellishments. The extent of the adornments would have to had been the candles lining the pillars on each side of the room and the metal torches that stood on both sides of the staircase, as well as the large candlelit chandelier on the ceiling. There were also a few chairs on both sides of the room, if those counted as decorations…

There was so much space on the walls and even the floors, there were plenty of possibilities for some nice artwork to spruce up the place. Marcus made a note to buy a few paintings and maybe a statue or two later.

"All right, so this is the main hall of the facility!" Savage grinned as he held his arms out widely, as if to emphasize the magnitude of the room. "You'll need to go through this room quite often, since it leads to so many of the other rooms. So let's begin the official tour, yeah?"

First, Savage had led them through the front door which, naturally, led to the outside. There wasn't much of interest out there, however. The only thing worthy of attention was the lengthy bridge that was currently in construction, directly in front of the facility.

Seeing as the building was located on top of a cliff at the edge of Raccoon Forest, the only actual entrance was by the Ecliptic Express. Because of this, Spencer had decided to construct a bridge. It was only about one-third of the way finished, but work would continue on it from time to time. It wasn't absolutely necessary at the moment, so there was no reason to delay the facility's opening to wait for its eventual completion.

In fact, the opening had already been delayed by a month. Ordinarily, the school year should have begun in September. But construction and renovation took longer than expected, so they were forced to open in October instead. Because of this, the students would end up losing a month of training. Therefore, they had no more time to waste—whether the bridge was completed or not.

Of course, the bridge would only take them to another part of Raccoon Forest anyway, still quite far from town. Regardless, it would be useful in case the train ever malfunctions during an inopportune period of time, without any way for them to immediately repair it.

Back to the main hall, there were quite a few more rooms to go through. Savage took his time showing them to each of the employees and students.

The door to the left of the main lobby led to a small hallway, further leading to two more rooms.

One of those rooms was the restroom, which was somewhat small but contained everything the employees would need. Five sinks, four toilets, four urinals, and two showers. A few of the employees decided to take advantage of this stop in order to relieve themselves—it had been a long train ride, after all.

The other room was a small room for the students to study in. It contained a projector along with some desks and chairs. There wasn't enough room for all of the students, so only small groups at a time would be able to make use of it. Beyond that, employees will also be permitted to use the room for meetings.

To the right of the main hall was a large dining room, suitable for all of the employees and students to enjoy their meals together. It was accompanied by a kitchen, equipped with a fairly decent amount of cooking supplies.

Although, since they didn't have an official chef to make their meals, it would be up to the employees to decide who would cook. Sometimes an employee would, other times students will. Either way, they would eat three main meals a day.

They returned to the main hall, exploring the upper level this time. To the left was a lounge room, which they could use to either study or relax for a little while. To the right—a room that would lead to a few storage rooms, a recreation bar, a monitor room, and quite a few others. Due to how many rooms it led to, Savage explained that the students will be able to explore that on their own time later.

Then to the front was the most vital room that students would use—the classroom. There were sixteen desks and seats for each of the students, along with a large desk in the front of the room, where the employee in charge of teaching would sit.

"Hope you're all excited about this room, because this is where you'll be spending most of your time." Savage crossed his arms as he turned to face them. "In this school, you'll receive in-depth knowledge on everything you'll need to succeed in Umbrella. There will be a heavy emphasis on various fields of science, but also on business and leadership skills. Once you've finished your training in June, you'll be the ideal Umbrella employee. So, better hit the books!"

That was great, truly, but Marcus couldn't help but wonder why it was even necessary to go to such lengths to train the students. Most companies give on-the-job training, while Umbrella—a fairly new company—was making people come to a school just to train them.

It was true that Spencer had been working to give the company some publicity and a well-received image in the past few months, yet it still seemed unusual. Why would people wish to become students for a new company when they could just become interns or actual employees for a more well-known one? Spencer must have been an even better businessman than Marcus had thought. How else could he pull off such a feat?

Savage pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and resumed speaking. "By the way, we do have a company motto here, which we expect all of you to adhere to. Ready for it?"

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he began to read aloud.

"Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life."

The students were visibly baffled at the motto, likely thinking it sounded strange. Savage, noticing this, frowned. "Yeah yeah, you probably think it sounds weird, right? But these are actually really important qualities that you'll need to succeed in life, so try to think about it, okay? Plus you'll be hearing this motto a lot from now on, so better get used to it!"

Marcus had looked away, his hand covering his face in order to hide his faint blush. The motto was actually his idea, and it sounded really good in his head, but…maybe it did seem kind of strange now. But when he mentioned it to Spencer, he said it sounded fine! He didn't think Spencer would lie about that, but still…

He internally sighed. No matter, he'll just need to get used to it too. At least it still sounded kind of cool—albeit in a weird way. And those qualities were still undeniably important, so perhaps it's not too bad…

"Anyway… The tour is finished now. Sorry it couldn't be longer, but I got work to do too!" He grinned sheepishly. "Besides, it's more fun to look around on your own, right? So go on, get exploring!" He waved, gesturing for them to get going. But before they did, he spoke again. "Oh, and for your assigned bedrooms, you can check the message board. There are four bedrooms, two in B1, and two in B2. And _now_ the tour is officially over. Have fun exploring!" He crossed his arms confidently as he concluded his explanation.

The students and employees wasted no time in dispersing, each one leaving the room to go investigate the rest of the facility.

"Hold on there, Dr. Marcus. Got something else to tell you, too."

Just as Marcus had turned to go on his own path, Savage had spoken. Turning, Marcus looked to him. "Hm? What is it?"

"I'm sure you must be wondering about where your lab is, right?" Seeing the older man's eyes briefly widen, he nodded with a smug grin. "I thought so." His expression turned neutral as he continued. "Your lab is actually on the lower level of the church, which is behind the facility."

Marcus rose a brow at the statement, crossing his arms. "A church? I didn't even realize we had one here… It also seems somewhat strange to have one right near a school, doesn't it?"

He nodded once more. "I guess it probably is a little weird, if you think about it. But! Since the students and employees will be spending almost their entire school year here at the facility, it's important that they have a peaceful place suitable for practicing their faith." He then shrugged indifferently. "Well, there's that—and the fact that it's meant to serve as a cover for your lab."

"A cover? Does that mean that the lab is meant to be kept secret?" He inquired, surprised by the implication.

"According to Spencer, yes, it was meant to be kept secret. He figured you might prefer that, so that you could have a private place to conduct your research in peace." He then gave another shrug. "Of course, the decision's ultimately up to you. But as of now, the students will be told that the elevator leading to the lab is for employees only."

Marcus' shock remained, but after a few seconds of thinking about it, he gave a nod. "Yes, I suppose I would prefer it to remain hidden. It's not as if I have any nefarious plans, but the peace and quiet would certainly be better for my concentration."

Savage nodded, returning the smile. "Yeah, I get that. Don't want the students running amok in the lab, and all. Uh, not that they'll literally run amok, but you know what I mean."

Marcus then placed a hand on his chin as he began to think. After a moment, he spoke again. "By the way… Since you know about this secret lab—and you were chosen to give a tour of the facility—I would have to assume you must be a fairly high-rank employee. Am I correct?"

"You bet I am!" He confidently grinned, placing his hands on his hips. "I'm actually the laboratory manager, so I know more about this lab business than anyone! Well…other than the assistant director and a few lab assistants."

With that being the case, Marcus figured he'll probably be seeing a lot more of Savage soon enough. He seemed like a nice guy—enthusiastic, without a doubt. But personality aside, Marcus hoped that he also had the intellect necessary for the job. But Umbrella did hire him after all, so there probably shouldn't be any issues.

That aside, this had been a very good day for Marcus. Not only did he learn that he barely even has to deal with the students, but he also has his own private lab to work with! Spencer was actually cutting him a bit of a break, wasn't he? He would have to thank him next time he speaks to him. As of now, he can't wait to get to the lab and begin his research. Soon, he'll be able to learn all about the Progenitor virus…

* * *

_November 2__nd__, 1968_

* * *

It had been just over a month since the training facility opened. Marcus adapted to life there fairly easily. It was just as Davids said, he—along with the other instructors—would take care of teaching the students. Marcus' involvement was only needed for the occasional suggestion about the direction the training was going in, and also for a speech or two every once in a while. And while that was still an inconvenience, it certainly beat spending every day actually teaching the students. And for that—he was very thankful.

But despite the large amount of time that he had to himself, he still hasn't been able to spend too much time actually conducting his research yet. Being the director comes with a lot of paperwork, especially since the facility was newly opened. So he spent quite a bit of time on that, but he hoped to be done with the bulk of it soon enough. Then once he's finished, he'll be able to finally explore his lab more thoroughly.

He did go there a few times, though, and thus made a few observations about it. It was indeed below the church, only reachable by the elevator off to the side. Students were not allowed to use that elevator, simply being told that the rooms it led to were for high-level staff members only. They still seemed a little curious, but understood, nonetheless.

The lab had several rooms, as well as two floors. The first floor consisted of a library, which Marcus was very happy to see. The bookshelves were empty at the moment, but he made plans to fill them quite soon. That floor also contained his office, but since he also had one at the facility, this one was more of a backup. It also had a room that acted as a station for the cable car, which led to the nearby factory.

The second floor could be reached by using the staircase. That floor was more so the actual lab, one room equipped with shelves full of beakers, test tubes, microscopes, and much more—all of the basic necessities for a lab. Another room was a bit bigger and spacious, more suitable for doing the actual experiments. There was also a storage room, containing extra lab equipment. One of the rooms also led to the upper level of the cable car station, where the controls for the car are found.

There were a few more rooms on that floor, but they were mostly empty—only containing a few shelves and tables. Marcus wasn't sure what he would use them for yet, but he imagined he'd figure something out eventually.

He leaned back in his black leather-clad chair with a sigh, having just finished another set of paperwork. He really had no idea why he needed to do all of it—most of it seemed pointless. A lot of it was just standard data about the facility, only needing his signature to confirm that the facility will be used as intended. There were also documents pertaining to Umbrella, from its purpose to his role as first director of the facility.

It was nothing he didn't already know, yet there were over a hundred papers containing writing that spanned the entire page. His eyes had begun to strain from all the reading. He briefly considered signing them without reading, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Who knows if one of the topics in these papers will come back to haunt him someday? It was unlikely, but still possible. He wouldn't take the risk.

As he turned to gaze out the window, taking in the lovely view of the expansive cobalt lake and the clear blue skies, a loud knock was heard on the door—interrupting his brief look at such serenity.

"Come in." Marcus spoke, quietly sighing before swiveling in his chair, sitting up straight as he faced the entrance.

The door opened, revealing a man with short brown hair and a formal black suit. It was one of the employees, but…which one was it? Marcus couldn't remember for the life of him. Was it the usual chef, perhaps? Or maybe it was one of the teachers…

"Director Marcus." The man spoke calmly as he stepped forward and nodded his head in respect. "Sorry to bother you, but you've received mail." He walked to the chestnut brown desk, taking a white envelope out of his pocket, then handing it to Marcus.

"Mail, is it?" He asked nonchalantly, not actually expecting it to be anything worthwhile. It was probably just more dreadful paperwork…

At least, that's what he thought—until he saw the name on the envelope.

"Ashford Residence…" He mumbled to himself, eyes briefly widening. He then looked back to the employee with a smile and nod. "Yes, thank you for bringing this to me."

"Not a problem, sir." The employee nodded before turning, quickly exiting the room.

Marcus supposed he shouldn't be surprised at this delivery. After all, he had written a letter to Ashford just a few weeks ago. It was nothing important, really. Marcus had simply been asking about how he had been. He hadn't seen the man in so long—not since his last meeting with him and Spencer back in August of 1966. So much has happened since then, so they had a lot to catch up on.

However, the perplexity in this situation comes from the fact that it had been a while since Marcus initially sent him the letter. Ashford had always been known for responding almost immediately, so it should have only taken about a week to receive a response. It had been almost a month, though. He was beginning to think Ashford may not have even received the letter, so its sudden arrival did come as somewhat of a surprise. Regardless, it was here now, so that's all that actually mattered.

He wasted no time in opening the envelope, eager to see what his old friend has been up to. Yet his excitement quickly faded—his expression of glee immediately shifting to one of disbelief.

_Dear Dr. Marcus,_

_I sincerely apologize for the delayed response; I have thought very deeply on how to tell you this. I was reluctant, not wishing to cause you any of the grief that has plagued the Ashford residence for these last few months. Yet I have since realized that it is not fair that you should not know, having been such a precious friend to our Lord for so many years… _

_It brings me great sorrow to inform you that our dear Lord Ashford has passed away. It happened in July of this year—a mere four months ago. One of his attendants went to check on him as per usual, only to instead see the horrific sight of his body unconscious on the ground, completely lifeless. We were all shocked, unable to believe how such a thing could happen so suddenly. _

_Even to this day, none of us are entirely sure of what had happened to the Lord. The attendant that saw him last—only an hour before the tragedy struck—had said that he showed no signs of illness and was in perfect health. We initially suspected that attendant of foul play, but we have found no evidence of it. Whatever the case, it was quite unusual. The Lord was always so health conscious. He took excellent care of himself, as did we servants. This appalling tragedy is truly unprecedented…_

_However, there is something of slight concern… We did find it to be suspicious that this incident seemed to happen not long after a strange package had arrived. We are not sure what the package contained, nor do we know who the sender was. One of the other attendants must have accepted it, but we were not able to discover who it had been. To add to the confusion, when the mysterious package was later mentioned to Lord Ashford, he was said to have been surprised at the delivery as well, as he was not expecting anything. He also said that no one had presented any packages to him recently, so he never received it. Then, only a few hours later, he was deceased… _

_Furthermore, we were still unable to locate the package even after the occurrence of this horrific incident, so we could not inspect the label to determine the sender. It almost appeared as if the box itself vanished out of thin air, strangely enough…_

_Yet…perhaps we are merely grasping straws. It would be ridiculous to fault his terrible passing on a silly package. The timing was strange, is all. Please, forget I have mentioned something so absurd._

_I believe that is all I have left to say. Please, Dr. Marcus. Do take good care of yourself. We hope that you may remain in good health. Lord Ashford's desire to help you and Lord Spencer with the establishment of Umbrella Corporation was cut short by a cruel fate, so we hope that you may accomplish what he could not. _

_Sincerely, Jeffrey—of the Ashford Estate_

The color had entirely faded from Marcus' expression as he reached the end of the letter—unable to speak, unable to think. He could only stare at the paper blankly and silently for what felt like an eternity. Reading the words over and over again, he was incapable of registering them in his mind. Or perhaps he was attempting to find a mistake—to believe he simply misread the letter, and that Ashford is truly alive and well. But each time, the words were unchanged—only ever announcing the same horrible outcome.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to set the letter on the desk. Color began to return to his face as he slowly and more coherently began to process what he had read.

Ashford…had died. In July…of this year. That was four months ago. Yet he only found out now.

Why on earth did he only find out _now_?

Obviously, this Jeffrey fellow said that he was reluctant to tell him because of how upsetting the situation is. But why would Spencer neglect to mention it, despite their many conversations over the last few months? Spencer had been in contact with Ashford more than anyone—he had spoken with him on several occasions regarding the formation of Umbrella. He without a doubt should have known about this incident, so shouldn't he have thought to tell Marcus about it? Ashford was his friend, too.

Not only is it upsetting to suddenly find out that he died, but to only find out so many months after it happened? Suffice to say, that was pretty aggravating. He'd surely have to have a word with Spencer the next time he sees him…

Annoyances with Spencer aside, this news truly was disheartening. He has known Ashford for such a long time, ever since they were in college. While they may not have gotten together too often in their older years, they had spent a lot of time together when they were younger. Back then, they had been a trio—Marcus, Spencer, and Ashford. Spencer would invite them to one of his mansions, and they'd all study together and joke around… Those were happier times.

Of course, they did have their fair share of quarrels back then. Usually it was Marcus arguing with Spencer, while Ashford calmly encouraged both of them to settle down, to no avail. But even so, they still seemed so…joyful. All three of them seemed to genuinely enjoy the other's company. But now, well…

It's not as if Marcus ever stopped enjoying their company, but it definitely started to feel different. They've just drifted apart over the years, he supposed. Perhaps it was bound to come with age. They all had changed as time went on, each of them setting out on their own paths in life. That said, it's only natural for them to grow apart, isn't it? But it doesn't matter, really. Ashford is gone now, so the trio is no more…

Marcus couldn't help but feel depressed as he thought about their last meeting—their final meeting. He had seen him when they had met up at Spencer's mansion to discuss going to Africa two years ago. If he had known then that it would be the final time he would ever see him…

Well, it's not as if he could have done anything to stop this fate. Yet he still couldn't help wishing that he had spoken to him at least once more. Perhaps then their friendship could have ended on a more…gratifying, note.

First Bailey left to go to Africa, and now Ashford is dead… Times were truly changing, weren't they? The times of happy get-togethers are over—everyone is gone now…

Even so, wallowing in sadness wasn't going to bring Ashford back. He put his grief aside for a moment, instead focusing on a different aspect of this situation. There was something very unusual going on… How exactly did Ashford die?

The Ashford attendants certainly weren't able to figure it out, only knowing that he was fine and then suddenly he was dead. There was also that package that Jeffrey mentioned, which did sound suspicious, although Jeffrey also claimed that he didn't think it was of any real concern. So what could it possibly be?

It would seem that murder is off of the table—they certainly didn't mention any visible wounds. Although poison would be possible, but generally the victim would show symptoms of it—which again, they did not mention. He may have had a heart attack, but even that would seem unlikely. He wasn't _that_ old, and he did take very good care of himself…

He grumbled as he thought about it. His mind kept wandering back to that package they mentioned, but why would that have anything to do with it? The circumstances may have been somewhat odd, but it was still merely a package. What, was the item inside contaminated, so Ashford touched it and suddenly got infected and died?

…

_But…if that item was infected with a sort of virus…_

The thought instantly caused him to grimace as his mind began to race. With how Ashford's death was described, it does seem conceivable that a virus could have been the cause. Not one such as a minor cold—but instead one so deadly that it could kill swiftly and without any discernible symptoms.

However, simply touching the item should not ordinarily cause an infection. If he had touched his mouth or eyes afterwards, or even if he had a sort of cut that came into contact with the item, then perhaps it would have. Regardless, there are many other ways for viruses to be transferred as well. Virus particles in the air, being bitten by animals or insects containing a virus, ingestion of an infected item—

—A virus that kills by ingestion... His first thought went to none other than the Progenitor virus. As the tales about the Ndipaya said, many of the tribesmen had consumed the flower that the virus was dormant in. Some of them survived and gained great abilities, but the others had perished—the person's death being instantaneous and without any preceding symptoms. Somehow, that sounds awfully similar to the current situation…

He quickly shook his head, frowning deeply. No, there's no possible way for Ashford to have obtained the virus—the only ones that initially had access to it were Marcus, Spencer, and Bailey. He knew for certain that he and Bailey did not send the virus to Ashford, and he didn't recall Spencer mentioning anything of the sort.

Besides, even if they did send it to him, they would do it so that Ashford can begin to work with the virus. It would be sent in a very protective case along with clear instructions on how to handle it. Plus, Ashford was no idiot. He would know very well how to deal with the virus—he certainly wouldn't accidentally eat it.

Furthermore, his death was in July. At that point, Marcus and Bailey were staying at Spencer's mansion as they awaited their return to Africa. They didn't have access to the virus at that point, nor any time before then, really. They spent all of their time trying to cultivate the flowers so that the virus would grow in them, without any success. They couldn't have sent the virus to Ashford even if they wanted to.

And Spencer had been…actually, what _had_ Spencer been doing at the time? He didn't help Marcus and Bailey with growing the flowers—that was for sure. But as Marcus thought about it, all he was able to remember is that Spencer just seemed to be very busy at that point. He had been on the phone often, and sometimes he seemed to be away from the estate altogether. So obviously, he was too busy to send the virus to Ashford—

—Unless he was busy _because_ he was sending the virus to Ashford.

Spencer was the one that held onto the flower samples, so theoretically, he could have sent one to Ashford, or even the virus itself…

But that wouldn't make sense. Why would Spencer never mention it? If he wanted to send the virus to Ashford ahead of time, then it should be no secret. And why would he be in such a rush to send the virus to him anyway? This had been a month before they even decided on Bailey going to Africa to send back the samples to all of them. Couldn't Ashford have waited a few more months for Bailey to send him the samples too?

And again, if Spencer did decide to send him it early, then he would have used proper containment and he'd have given instructions on how to use it. It's not as if he would just carelessly toss the virus into the box, causing Ashford to come into contact with it in a way that would somehow infect him. Spencer is much too smart to do something so foolish. He always knows exactly what to do, and how he must do it. To think otherwise would be absurd.

Besides, there's no actual evidence that the virus was sent to Ashford anyway. Progenitor more than likely has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. Sure, there may be certain things pointing towards the virus possibly being involved, but there is even more pointing towards this being a random and unfortunate consequence of fate.

Marcus was probably just doing the same thing the Ashford residence was currently doing—grasping at straws in an attempt to make sense of such an uncanny situation. He likely will never know the truth of what actually happened, either. There just wasn't enough evidence to deduce what could have transpired. And as much as that fact may plague him, he would just need to accept it.

At the end of the day, the only thing of importance was that his dear friend Edward Ashford had passed away. He was a good man and will surely be missed, and this will be a serious blow to the Ashford legacy.

Even after all of this time, Marcus was still no expert on family legacies and whatnot. But from what he knew, Edward had been an excellent heir to the family. He was admired by all for his kindness and intelligence, and he brought great prosperity to the family. He truly lived up to the example set by his ancestor, Veronica.

But what would come of the legacy now? Edward had expressed concern over its well-being on several occasions, mentioning how he fears that his son, Alexander, will not be up to the task when the time comes. Apparently, Alexander would not be capable of continuing any of Edward's work, due to being uninterested in virology and more so focused on genetics. Would he be able to maintain the legacy on his own, without his father's research and achievements to fall back on? This is something Edward often pondered. But now is the time for that answer to finally come to light, Marcus supposed.

He stared through the window, watching the gentle sway of the sparkling azure water. A faint frown present on his lips, he spoke in a whisper.

"I suppose…this is our final goodbye. Farewell, Ashford. May you rest in peace…"

* * *

_November 30__th__, 1968_

* * *

"Yes, thank you. Much appreciated." He stated calmly to the employee, who quickly nodded and exited the room.

Marcus had been in his office, as he often is, when an employee dropped off another letter. However, it was not from the Ashford residence this time. Instead, it was from his prized pupil, Bailey.

No sooner he had settled into the training facility, he wasted no time in writing a letter to his student. It wasn't anything significant. He simply told him what it has been like at the training facility, and he also asked about how things have been going for Bailey. Writing letters certainly wasn't as convenient as talking face-to-face, as they always had. But it was better than nothing, at least.

Plus, with him recently learning of Ashford's death, he has been awfully glum lately. So the letter arrived at an opportune moment—here's hoping it had some uplifting news written in it.

He hastily opened the letter, eager to learn of how life has been going for Bailey.

_Hi there, Dr. Marcus! _

_I'm really sorry I didn't reply sooner, I've been pretty busy helping to set up the research facilities here. But I was super excited to get your letter, I'm so glad that the training facility stuff has been going well for you! See, I knew it would be better for you to stay there. Because trust me—this place is NOT a paradise for research!_

_Right now, our facilities are just a bunch of tents stationed near the Progenitor flowers. And they're not even very big tents, either. Plus, we need to have a bunch of security guards armed with guns standing by all the time in case the Ndipaya try to attack again—which they have! And don't get me started on the sound of construction for the actual research facilities. It's so noisy, how am I supposed to concentrate on my research? I sure hope they'll be finished working on it soon. I'll try to persevere until then, but jeez, it's such a pain…_

_But besides that, it hasn't been all bad. We recently got a few new employees, so it's not just me and the security anymore. Speaking of, I think a few of the guards are the same ones we traveled with years ago! But every time I try to talk to them, they either ignore me or give the shortest answer possible. I suppose they're just really focused on their job, but it wouldn't kill them to make a little bit of conversation… Oh right, the new employees! _

_So far, there's only three of them. First, there's Frank Elliot. He's really nice, and also pretty strong! He's helped a lot with setting up the facilities and equipment. Then there's Greg Addison. He's smart and all, but not very talkative. He's barely even said a word to me since his arrival, but that's fine. As long as he's good at the job, I guess. And finally, there's Isabella Carson! _

_She's the most recent one to join. I didn't know that we would have women employees too, so honestly, I was a little nervous. I haven't spoken to women very often lately, since I've spent so much time with you for so long. And you were never exactly a lady's man either, Dr. Marcus, so I'm very clueless about these things! But despite my worries, we were still able to become friends! Talking to her is easier than I thought—because she's really nice and smart, and also really pretty! Oh wait, uh, forget that last part, okay? That's not important, haha! _

_Anyway… We probably won't be getting any more employees until the actual facilities are built, so I'll be getting to know these three pretty well, I guess. I'm just glad to at least have some people around, since it was starting to get pretty lonely with just the silent security here. _

_All things considered; I'm doing pretty good. I'll be doing even better once the construction is finished, but until then, I'll do my best to manage. So for now, hopefully the virus samples I'll be sending will be a big help to you. I can't wait to hear about all the amazing discoveries you'll make, Dr. Marcus. I just know you'll do wonderful things! _

_Message me again soon, okay? Bye for now!_

_Sincerely, Brandon Bailey _

He couldn't help the warm smile plastered onto his expression as he read the letter—already reminded of how much he missed his student. It certainly seems like Bailey's life has been very eventful lately…

It's a shame that the construction is such a nuisance, though. Marcus knows well how difficult it can be to do research with so many outside interferences. And only being able to work within small tents…that sounds like quite the hassle. But even still, he knows that Bailey has enough mental fortitude to hold out until the facilities are finished. He'll be looking forward to hearing about how excited Bailey will be, when that day comes.

And it's great that he's finally making friends. Truthfully, Marcus often worried about him in that aspect. As Bailey himself said, he spent a lot of time with Marcus. He never really had anyone else to spend time with—not even any friends from college. It seemed as though he didn't have any friends, which was very unfortunate. So it'd be good for him to finally start meeting people, hopefully ones that are closer to his age. It ought of be very beneficial for him. Not only in his present situation, but for the future, as well.

But on the other hand, could it be…Bailey may end up getting a girlfriend soon? How strange! Marcus had never thought about it before, but Bailey _is_ around that age…or past that age. Still, he supposed it's only natural for him to start developing these feelings. Yet it's still so…sudden! And honestly, it made him kind of sad. His student might be getting a girlfriend, while Marcus had never even had one throughout his life… It did seem a little pathetic, when he really thought about it…

But it wasn't as if he never _could_ have gotten a girlfriend, per se. As he recalled, there were many women that showed an interest in him in his younger days. After all, he had been quite good-looking, on top of his exemplary intelligence. Alas, many of them were driven away by his…difficult personality. Though oddly enough, there were a few that remained quite persistent in spite of that.

Yet their efforts were futile in the end, as he was already married to his studies and future career. He had no time for romance and the like. His younger self had scoffed at the idea of romance, considering it a waste of time. He had no interest in getting married and starting a family, because it was not contributing anything meaningful to the world. But with science, he could make many amazing contributions! That's how he always viewed it, at least.

Even now, he didn't regret his choices. Being married would take away from his research quite a bit, needing to spend time with the family and whatnot. Not to mention, he was never a very affectionate and lovey-dovey type of person either, which was almost a necessity in marriage. That's just not the life for him, he thought. Still, he does sometimes wonder what his life could have been like if he had made that choice instead…

Never mind that. The important thing here is that Bailey could end up having a girlfriend! Maybe he will end up experiencing the life that Marcus could not? Or perhaps nothing will come of it, after all. Who could say? He'll just need to keep an eye out on Bailey's future letters to find the answer.

Content with his reminiscing, he opened one of his desk drawers and placed the letter inside. He had some more work to do at the moment, so he would need to reply later.

Sitting forward and grabbing his pen, it was time to get to work…

That is, until he heard a knock at the door.

He rose an eyebrow, wondering what it could possibly be this time. He already received his mail for the day, and he wasn't supposed to give any lectures to the students anytime soon. Who could it be?

"Come in..?" He spoke almost questioningly, awaiting the door opening. The person that arrived must have been the person he least expected to see—his mouth fell agape as he dropped his pen, it clattering to the desk with a soft thud.

"S-Spencer?" There was a slight tremble in his voice because of his shock, but the other man paid it no mind as he calmly walked forward.

Noting the man's indifference, Marcus continued. "Well…this is a surprise. You didn't tell me that you were coming for a visit."

"Yes, I was in the area, so I thought I'd check in and see how you're doing." Reaching the front of the desk, he took a seat in the cushioned black chair. His expression was as stern and emotionless as ever. If he had been excited to see his friend, then he certainly was good at hiding it.

Marcus gave a faint smile, nodding. "Oh, is that so? Well, it's good to see you, nonetheless. And as for how I'm doing, well…" He gestured to the piles of paperwork on his table, smiling sheepishly. "Mostly a lot of reading."

"I suppose the job does come with a lot of paperwork. But it must be done, you know. Legalities, and such." He waved his hand apathetically.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure." He spoke with a nod. "I'm nearing the end of it anyway, so it's fine. Beyond that, my work here at the facility has been relatively minimal. I did want to thank you for that, actually." He gave a faint smile. "I'm sure that extra time will prove to be quite invaluable to my research."

Spencer crossed his arms, giving a stern nod. "I had hoped you would say as much. I did arrange for your job to be without too many hardships, for that very purpose." He tilted his head inquisitively. "Tell me, have you been to your laboratory yet?"

"I have. A few times, at least." He leaned farther into his chair, a faint frown present on his lips. "I haven't been able to make much use of it yet, but it does look quite nice. I'm sure my research into Progenitor will be able to go smoothly there."

"Yes, about that…" Spencer's eyes abruptly turned rigid as he stared directly at Marcus, calmly folding his hands together. "What do you feel that Umbrella's main goal with Progenitor should be?"

Marcus rose a brow at the sudden statement, rather surprised by the strange question. If nothing else, it seems that Spencer _did_ have some sort of specific purpose for coming here after all…

Ignoring his newfound skepticism, he simply tilted his head to the side, frowning. "Our goal has always been to find ways to improve the human race, hasn't it? I would like to discover all that I can within the virus, but that would be what I believe to be the forefront of our research." He returned his gaze to Spencer, his own expression becoming stern. "Why do you ask? Did you have something else in mind?"

"I agree, that should be our primary goal. And, yet…" He waited a moment, almost as if he was carefully choosing his next words. After a soft sigh, he resumed his point. "Improving the human race alone doesn't exactly bring in as much funding as you may hope. So with that being said, I do believe it would be for the best if we consider…other options. Side-projects, if you will."

The statement did little to alleviate Marcus' confusion, instead only increasing it. "Side-projects…such as?"

"Biological weapons." He spoke bluntly, a faint smirk creeping its way onto his features.

Marcus gave a small gasp at that, frowning with uncertainty. "Biological weapons… You couldn't possibly mean the sort that are used in war, could you?"

"Yes, that is precisely what I mean." His face returned to its usual grimace as he began his explanation. "As you know, our research requires an extraordinary amount of funding—more than we could ever obtain on our own. So, who could possibly have such a great amount? The United States government, of course." His twisted smirk returned. "But such funding won't come cheap, we would need to provide something of equal value—as is the general philosophy of business, as well as life itself…"

"In basic terms, you want us to sell biological weapons to the government for our funding." He spoke sharply, crossing his arms as he looked to the man with unease.

"Exactly." His grin grew as he looked away, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts. "We both know of the potential within the virus, so I have no doubt that with enough research, we could create something remarkable. Something that the government will be _begging_ to buy from us! Can you even begin to comprehend how much they would be willing to pay for something of the sort? We will have no need to question how we can achieve the necessary funding for our research ever again!"

Marcus sighed, his expression visibly annoyed. "It sounds as if you are more interested in the funding, rather than the research itself."

Spencer's joyful expression immediately dropped, shifting to his typical scowl. "We both know that without the proper funding, our research will become impossible…" There was a harsh tone to his voice, a clear indication of his own annoyance. "Are you opposed to the idea, then?"

He looked away for a moment, contemplating the proposal. He had no interest in the funding itself, although he did acknowledge that it was still a necessity. But it certainly seemed as if the money was the only thing Spencer was worried about—almost as if Progenitor was nothing more than a money-spinning tool. It was a foolish way of thinking, really. With all of the hidden potential within Progenitor, any money that could be acquired from its developments should be secondary to the true goal!

As for the idea of making biological weapons… Progenitor truly is a powerful virus, so it certainly is possible that it could create some type of bioweapon. Perhaps in using animals as the test subjects, they could potentially gain enhanced strength and intelligence, among other skills. Then if they possess enough intelligence to be controlled with ease, they could become quite the powerful weapon.

The idea of creating something so incredible was definitely tempting, purely for the scientific aspect of it. Marcus had no interest in what the government chooses to do with such weapons. If they want to use them in their games of war and the like, then so be it. His only concern was with the knowledge to be obtained from accomplishing something so impressive. Everything else was trivial, at the end of the day.

Of course, this can only be possible if they're able to alter the virus enough to make it more effective. As of now, the only known uses of it were by the Ndipaya, in which most of them still did die. So it will need to be modified in order to have many more successes—so that it may grant those incredible abilities that the few lucky tribesmen had acquired to anyone who uses it. If they're unable to accomplish this task, then the whole idea will be rendered pointless, regardless.

Yet…Marcus had a strange feeling. He couldn't help thinking that even if he were to disagree with the idea, then Spencer very well may do it anyway. Because of course, Spencer had enough power to do as he wanted to, regardless of the opinions of his fellow founders.

It has come to Marcus' attention as of late that despite Umbrella being founded by himself, Spencer, and Ashford, only Spencer was generally recognized as such. Whenever the media would discuss the up-and-coming company of Umbrella, they would primarily speak about Spencer, with only a brief mention of Marcus and Ashford. Why did they never receive the same esteem that Spencer did? Did they not play an important role in the creation of the company, as well?

Another thing being, it was quite clear that Spencer had been the one calling the shots in the company. Marcus barely had a choice but to become the training facility's director, and he had no say in where the facility was built, how it was designed—anything. So if he was unable to even make these types of decisions about the facility that was _supposed_ to be his, then where did he truly stand in Umbrella? It stood to reason that his opinions were actually quite insignificant.

That simply wouldn't do. If he's to properly conduct his research, then he has no choice but to strengthen his position in the company. Otherwise, Spencer's presence will forever greatly overshadow his own. Which is why he just may be able to turn this situation to his advantage…

If he agrees to create bioweapons, then by creating one that's truly incredible—better than anything Spencer creates—he'll be able to achieve a higher position, no doubt. Then he'll actually have a voice in the company, allowing himself to make his own decisions. That will surely be an excellent boon for his research. So, it would seem that he's reached his decision.

Returning his gaze to Spencer, he spoke calmly. "I accept your proposal; it sounds like a fine idea."

Spencer's conceited grin returned as he nodded once. "I expected as much, I knew you would come to the right decision."

_Of course it's the right decision, because it's his decision…_ Marcus sarcastically thought to himself before giving a light shake of his head, deciding to move on from the subject.

"By the way, Spencer… There's something that I wished to speak with you about, as well." He looked towards the man, making sure that he had his attention before continuing. "Have you heard about what happened to Ashford?"

Initially he had risen a brow from the abrupt change of topic, but after a few seconds, he gave a stern nod. "Yes, I have. It's quite unfortunate, isn't it? He was an excellent man, taken from this world all too soon…" Despite his seemingly concerned words, he made no change in facial expression or even tone of voice. He seemed almost entirely indifferent, strangely enough.

His reaction was quite underwhelming, which somewhat perturbed Marcus. Regardless, he nodded in return, frowning as he spoke. "It certainly is. I could hardly believe the news, myself… Especially considering I only found out this month, while he had died in July." He leaned back in his chair, his firm gaze remaining directed towards Spencer. "Out of curiosity, when did you find out?"

Spencer took a moment to respond, likely deliberating on his answer. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively with a passive sigh. "I cannot say that I recall the exact date, but I believe it must have been sometime in August."

"Really?" He questioned, crossing his arms. "It would have been nice if you had told me about it, then. I was only able to learn about it because I received a letter from the Ashford residence recently."

"My apologies, I must have forgotten to mention it… As you can imagine, it's not something I would be very eager to speak about, anyhow."

"I completely understand, however…" He trailed off, looking to the side. "There's something quite strange about his death, don't you think?"

Spencer crossed his arms, his expression visibly growing puzzled. "Strange, is it? How so?"

"Haven't they told you?" He returned his stare to Spencer as he frowned faintly. "The circumstances surrounding his death are a complete mystery. They were unable to find anything that may have caused it. That is, except a mysterious package that arrived not long before it happened."

For the briefest of moments, Spencer's eyes seemed to widen, but he quickly shook it off and resumed his usual expression. "Yes, I have heard that they were unable to determine the cause. But what about this package you've mentioned? You couldn't possibly think that has anything to do with it, do you?" He narrowed his eyes, his posture almost seeming to tense up.

Marcus shrugged, his frown remaining. "I have no idea, really. I only wish that there was some way to determine the cause. It's such a shame. Not only to have lost a friend, but to not even know the reason that you've lost them…"

Spencer relaxed with a nod. "Yes, I completely agree. The situation is quite tragic in every aspect, it would seem."

Silence fell over the room as Marcus began to process the information he's newly received. Truthfully, he had been testing Spencer in an attempt to gauge how much he knew about Ashford's death, as well as if he played any part in it. Obviously, Spencer didn't _say_ that he sent the virus to Ashford. But his reactions…they were quite unusual.

He seemed rather apathetic for the most part, despite discussing a close friend's death. Of course, Spencer has never been a very emotional person, so there's that. But he also seemed surprised at the mention of the circumstances being peculiar, even though anyone who knew about the situation should be able to agree right away that it's very strange. Another thing being, he seemed almost…uneasy, at the mention of the package. Perhaps he simply never heard that part of the situation before, so he was merely surprised to learn of it, but…was that truly the only reason?

Now, it's not as if Marcus was _trying_ to be distrustful of his friend, and he certainly would never want to blame him for Ashford's death. His only theory throughout the entire situation was that perhaps Spencer sent Ashford the virus with good intentions, only for a terrible accident to occur, causing Ashford to become infected. Perhaps Spencer then felt so guilty about indirectly causing his death that he now feigns ignorance. But after this conversation…Marcus just couldn't help feeling that Spencer may know more than he was letting on.

Is it possible that…Spencer's intentions weren't so pure after all?

It did seem strange for a founder of a company to die of mysterious causes only months after the company's establishment. Then with that founder gone, their power will be transferred to one of the other founders—the one that already had the most power and status in the first place.

…Which is Spencer.

Marcus was unable to determine if there was any validity to these concerns, but there was one thing he was certain of…

It would be in his best interest to be _very_ careful from now on…


	4. The Price of Ambition

_September 5__th__, 1977_

* * *

It has been almost nine years since Marcus first began his work in the Umbrella Executive Training Facility. Yet despite it being such a lengthy period of time, his stay has been rather uneventful.

The facility remained the same as it always had. Each year, a new class of students eager to become future Umbrella Corporation leaders and employees would arrive. They'd go through the year learning about the various scientific fields as well as receiving lessons in both business and leadership.

But the students, while they were obviously different each year—in reality, they may as well have been the same. They possessed the same goals, the same intellect levels, and even the same personalities, somehow. Why, it was almost as if they were seeing the same class return each and every year. It had been a never-ending cycle of teaching the same things to students that were always mediocre at best…

Still, regardless of how unexceptional they may have been, Marcus did attempt to be a decent director in the beginning of this endeavor. He'd check in with the employees every now and then, asking them about how the training has been going, and if there were any particularly impressive students. He didn't spend much—if any—time with the students themselves, but he would keep an eye on their progress, usually through reports from Assistant Director Davids.

He always hoped to one day see a truly outstanding student—one that was both intelligent and ambitious enough to really stand out from the crowd, along with having the potential to become an incredible scientist in the future. But instead, he was forced to acknowledge that all of the students throughout the years were of average intelligence, lacking any real drive to become anything more than a mere Umbrella employee.

Perhaps it was due to the company's rising fame that they found such a dull position to be satisfactory. Over the years, Umbrella has begun to turn into quite the household name. It once had been a small company that few people knew of, with even less people caring about it enough to buy their products. But now, almost everyone at least knew of the company due to its array of wondrous medicines, as well as their expanding lines of products in various fields.

Still, it was quite clear that this was only the beginning. Umbrella would surely become even bigger and more impressive in the future, if its current rapid expansion were anything to go off of. As such, being an employee of such a company did come with great benefits, making the position highly sought after.

But after so many years of these run of the mill students, Marcus grew tired of paying any interest in them whatsoever. He refused to even feign concern over their work, knowing that not a single one of them contains any true value or potential. If they lacked the motivation to accomplish anything meaningful in their lives, then he lacked the motivation to care about them. Was that cold of him to say? Perhaps, but he had no time to worry about it.

He's spent many years in the facility, and he was already almost fifty-nine years old. He wasn't getting any younger, and he still had much that he needed to accomplish in his own life. He no longer had the privilege of worrying about such trivialities. If those students were content with leading insignificant lives, who was he to stop them? They could do as they wish—it didn't affect him in the least.

It may have gone without saying, but Marcus did possess a more withdrawn personality as of late. While he once had done his best to maintain a friendly image, that nature slowly started to fade as time went on. Perhaps it was partly due to his newfound isolation, having barely seen or spoken with his former friends in so long.

His conversations with Spencer became few and far-between, and they never were anything of actual interest. The usual topics were merely discussions about the business and company, nothing more. It appeared that the time for friendly chats between them has long since passed…

It could be considered a great shame for two that were formerly so close to suddenly become something more akin to strangers. But was this not to be expected?

Marcus foresaw this outcome long ago. Over the years, Spencer continued to grow more and more distant, only ever showing any concern over himself. He also has been strangely obsessed with increasing the power of Umbrella, as well as his own status. These things only served to aid Marcus' distrust in the man, causing him to wonder if it was only a matter of time before Spencer decided to throw him away, as well.

Would Spencer truly kick him out of the company? He certainly had enough power to do whatever he wished, so he was surely capable of it. Or perhaps he had a worse fate in mind—such as something similar to the fate of Ashford, all of those years ago…

Marcus never determined for sure whether or not Spencer had anything to do with that incident, but he couldn't deny the growth in power that the man received after their former friend's death. It didn't take long for Spencer to stop mentioning Ashford altogether either, but that shouldn't come as a shock. All he even knows how to talk about anymore is himself and expanding the company, so why _would_ he mention him?

Nevertheless, his increasingly self-centered behavior wasn't exactly aiding his alleged innocence in that situation. If he did play a hand in it, at this point, Marcus honestly wouldn't be surprised. There was a time where the idea of Spencer committing such an act could only be considered as absolutely unimaginable, but now…

Well…he just needed to stay vigilant, so that the same fate won't befall him. All he can do is to continue his research, while forever remaining on his guard.

Moreover, Marcus hadn't spoken with Bailey much as of late, either. They still did send each other letters, but he admittedly has been slacking when it came to writing back to him. Bailey's letters would often sit there for weeks waiting for a reply, while Marcus continued to dive farther and farther into his research.

His actions were not on purpose, as he, naturally, still cared for his student greatly. But Bailey surely would understand that his research took priority, wouldn't he? In fact, he had said it himself on several occasions.

Bailey always wanted what was best for Marcus, so if that required him to seclude himself in an attempt to reach the best outcome with the virus, then so be it. He clearly wouldn't mind, and he would await Marcus' letters eagerly, right? Yes, of course he would. Thus, Marcus would simply need to do his best to not disappoint him.

As such, he's spent almost every day toiling away in his lab in order to study the Progenitor virus. In fact, the only reason he would bother to go to the main school building anymore is just to stock up on food to get him through the long days of research, or to occasionally grab some files or notes from his primary office. Beyond that, he basically lived in the lab—even falling asleep at his desk on many occasions. And because of this, he rarely saw any of the actual employees and students of the facility.

He typically would only see Savage, who was almost always present in the lab to help with his work and to manage the supplies, among other small tasks. Then he would also receive obligatory calls from Davids, discussing the same tedious updates about the students as always.

There were a few employees that were meant to serve as lab assistants as well, so he'd see them from time-to-time. However, their service was generally not needed, so he usually worked alone. Therefore, he lived in quite the seclusion as of late.

But that was fine—it didn't bother him in the slightest. He has spent many years of his life being alone, so it was no different now. His research would thrive in solitude, as he often told himself.

Yet despite that, he did have a slight nagging feeling, one that was very unpleasant—but he paid it no mind. Could the source of that feeling have to do with a sense of loneliness that he refused to admit? Perhaps, but he would never even consider the possibility, as he instead opted to ignore it altogether.

That aside, this was truly the best situation for his research. He was actually _glad_ that he was able to be alone! He could remain in his lab, free to do his work without any nuisances from students and the like. Sure, he did often have quite a few aches from falling asleep on his desk or sometimes even his lab table, but that wasn't an issue. After all, what are a few pains in comparison to making progress in your research?

Yet in reality, no matter how many advantages he may claim to receive from this environment, no matter how happy he may claim to be—he was never one that did well by himself. The isolation might have been good for his research, but for his mental state—not so much.

In his youth, being alone had caused him to become cynical and distrustful. It took him many years to even consider making friends, and even then, he had been very reluctant. He always saw the worst in people, constantly believing that they had ulterior motives and would inevitably end up betraying his trust. To never trust is to never be betrayed, as he always said. But was he genuinely happy in this state? The answer was clear—at least to everyone but him.

And with how many years have gone by with this increasing solitude, it wasn't strange that his personality began to feel more reminiscent of his younger days. His misgivings regarding Spencer were especially similar to how it had been when they first met.

Although, perhaps these feelings were a bit more justified now. Spencer was actually somewhat nice back then, so he did make for a decent and trustworthy friend. But now, he's been acting rather strangely and suspiciously, for reasons Marcus can't quite figure out.

In a way, perhaps Marcus' mistrust in him may actually prove to be a blessing. If a troubling scenario ever occurs between the two of them, at least he would be prepared.

However, Marcus had no interest in what his current mentality might be viewed as. Whether he was needlessly paranoid or overly trusting, it didn't matter to him. The only thing that did matter at this point was his research. It was the only thing he had left, so he fully intended to make something valuable out of it.

On that note, his research into Progenitor has gone relatively well. So far, he has been able to make several observations.

When the virus was administered to rodents, it always resulted in their death. The time it took for this effect to occur varied, but typically it was within minutes, though some managed to last for about an hour. Regardless, there were never any subjects that managed to successfully assimilate with the virus.

Even after altering the virus in so many ways—inserting DNA from other animals, removal of certain characteristics within the genome, and modifying the nucleotide sequence—no promising results could be attained. So technically, his progress at the moment wasn't necessarily impressive.

But while the findings so far have been lacking, he had no doubt that given enough time and resources, he'd be able to reach a satisfactory outcome. The virus definitely does contain DNA-altering characteristics, so he'd only need to manipulate those qualities in a way that will change the genes of the host without causing their death.

These things do take time, however, so it was only natural that good results wouldn't come easily. He had been prepared for this outcome, so it didn't cause him any real grief.

As of now, he was back to the hypothesis phase. He needed to figure out something—anything, that could possibly alter the virus in a significant way. While he's attempted many alteration tactics, he was quite hopeful about combining the DNA of other organisms with the virus. Perhaps with the right species, that could bear some positive results.

But what species could he use? So far, he has limited his sources to various types of rodents and insects, but none of them proved to be effective. He was considering utilizing another species of the mammalian class—monkeys, perhaps.

However, acquiring animals of that scale could prove to be expensive, so he'd prefer to try out cheaper options. At least, for the moment. Naturally, he will do as he must in order to advance his research, so if that eventually requires more expensive measures—he'll do it. But there was no need to jump to that step just yet, he still had options.

So after much contemplation, he already had an idea as to what he could use next. His choice was none other than leeches.

They were a cheap option, and he had actually studied them rather extensively in the past. Based on his findings at that time, they did possess some unique and potentially beneficial characteristics. If he is able to merge their genes with Progenitor, it seemed probable that some sort of mutation could occur. Whether or not the mutation will be helpful to his research is another story, but in science—anything is worth a try.

* * *

_September 17__th__, 1977_

* * *

The heavy steel door opened with a loud creak, the short blonde man entering swiftly while carrying a medium-sized cardboard box. Noticing the doctor—whom was at his lab table jotting something down on paper, as he often is—Savage stepped forward and held the box up higher. "Hey, Director Marcus? This package just arrived for you. Where do you want it?"

Without removing any attention from his writing, he waved a hand indifferently. "Just leave it on the table."

"All right, got it…" He placed the box down on the steel table beside him, laying it next to the various piles of papers. They were Marcus' notes, evidently, discussing the results of his most recent experiments. A brief glimpse was enough to know that they had ended in failures, but he didn't dare to pry through them.

Silence soon fell upon the room, while the man continued to stand there somewhat awkwardly. He looked as though he wanted to speak—to ask what the doctor's next experiments would be based on. As a fellow scientist, he had a genuine curiosity in the subject, and he would have liked to assist in the research as well. But Marcus made it clear that he preferred to work alone, and thus kept most of his research to himself.

The only thing he did say is that he was working with some sort of virus, and that he had been testing its effects on rodents. It sounded interesting enough, so Savage would have loved to help out, but he never bothered to voice these feelings. After all, Marcus had even declined the services of the employees that were meant to serve as lab assistants. If he didn't need them, he probably didn't need Savage, either.

Not to mention, it didn't help that Marcus has become so…aloof, lately. He used to be pretty friendly and easy to talk to, but lately—he was far from it. He only made conversation when absolutely necessary and refrained from saying anything more than he needed to. It did make talking to him much more difficult, so Savage was often reluctant to say anything, figuring he would only be a nuisance anyway.

Of course, he understood that this change in the doctor was likely a result of his devotion to his research. It wasn't unusual in the field for someone to become extremely absorbed into their work, to the point that it may significantly alter how they interact with others. Still, Savage couldn't help missing the old, more approachable version of Marcus. At least back then, they could hold an actual conversation…

So, all he really did around the lab was keeping it tidy and bringing the doctor his packages when they arrived, along with any supplies he needed from storage. Otherwise, he usually kept to himself in one of the other sectors, doing his own independent research and studies. It wasn't the most exciting career, but he thought maybe he should consider it a blessing. He got paid for doing almost nothing, even though he'd actually _rather_ be doing something…

He put these thoughts aside and departed the room without another word, leaving through the same creaky door he had come from.

Marcus continued to write for a few more minutes, finishing up the document containing his written hypothesis. It outlined his thoughts and expectations in regard to his next experiment using Progenitor, which, now that the package just arrived—he'd be able to test right away.

He rose from his seat and walked towards the table where the box sat. He quickly removed the tape and opened it; a faint smile present as he observed the contents. Inside the box was a large glass jar filled with water—and at least twenty leeches swimming around within.

He took the jar out of the box, carefully placing it onto the table. "It certainly has been a while since I last studied these, hasn't it?" He mumbled to himself as he leaned down to get a closer look at the jar.

The leeches were of the hirudo medicinalis variety and were mostly black with some shades of green. Going by their size, they must have been adults, although their age was hardly relevant. If nothing else, it shouldn't have any effect on the outcome of this experiment. They did seem healthy, though, as each one of them was eagerly swimming about.

First, Marcus grabbed a new pair of gloves from the nearby shelf and put them on. He wasted no time in opening the jar, and then used a pair of forceps to carefully remove one of the leeches—promptly interrupting its swimming routine. He placed it onto the metal tray that rested on the table, which caused the leech to squirm about, evidently not a fan of its new environment.

He paid the leech's agitation no mind as he crossed the room, grabbing a small flask and an empty syringe from one of the shelves. He filled the syringe with the liquid from the flask, which was the Progenitor virus, of course.

He's done this routine many times throughout the duration of his research, so this was nothing new, really. The only difference is that he would now be administering the virus to a leech instead of the typical rodents. He was already looking forward to seeing what the result would be, in which he strongly hoped that it would be a beneficial one.

The leech, however, did not care about the result one way or another. Its only focus was on its attempt to escape from the tray, slowly inching its way off and towards the jar where many of its brethren remained.

Upon turning and seeing the getaway in progress, Marcus gave a low chuckle and shook his head, once again using the forceps to place the leech onto the tray. Somehow, it almost looked disappointed.

"Now, this may hurt a bit. But it's for a good cause, so just brace yourself, all right?" He spoke to the leech, which made no effort to show concern.

He was aware that his behavior was somewhat…strange, but talking to his test subjects was a habit that he obtained over time. In fact, he talked to them much more often than he even talked to humans these days.

It could potentially be thought of as an effect of his isolation. He still desired communication to an extent yet, at this point, had no interest in anything unrelated to his research. Thus, he was able to fulfill the need by talking to the subjects that were directly related to it. It was a win-win situation, truly.

He held onto the leech using the forceps with one hand, then administered the virus with the other. The creature began to violently squirm, clearly distressed by the prick of the needle, but it soon settled down. In fact, it was so settled that it seemed dead for a few minutes, not moving even an inch.

Marcus frowned at the sight, afraid that this experiment would result in yet another failure. But his concern quickly proved to be unnecessary, as the leech was soon up and moving again, attempting to make another escape. This had actually proven to be a relief.

"If the leech is capable of surviving Progenitor, then there will be a possibility for it to assimilate with the virus. Then, it could possibly even trigger a new mutation…" He muttered his thoughts aloud before grabbing a water-filled container that he had prepared in advance, then placing the leech into it and sealing the lid tightly.

Though this wouldn't please the leech, he obviously couldn't put it back into the jar with the other leeches. He wasn't enough of a leech expert to be able to tell the difference between this one and the others, unless the virus is able to cause any extreme physical alterations. Then there was also the chance of the virus merely killing the leech, where it could then feasibly cause the others to get infected and suffer the same fate. That would be problematic to say the least, so there was no reason to risk it.

That aside, the outcome of the experiment would not yet be determinable, so he would need to observe it over time. He theorized however, that it should only take a few days to achieve a noticeably positive result. After all, most of his previous test subjects died rather quickly after administration, so to survive for days would already be an accomplishment.

He removed his gloves and disposed of them, washed his hands, and then returned to his chair from earlier. Naturally, he needed to write an update detailing his newest experiment. He was very meticulous with his work ethic, that much was certain.

* * *

_September 19__th__, 1977_

* * *

Marcus had continued to check on his test subject frequently over the past two days. To his surprise, the leech continued to live almost as if it was never administered the virus at all. Its behavior remained the same, and no physical mutations could be seen in the subject either. Because of this, he began to wonder if the virus had any effect at all.

Did it simply need more time, or was this experiment bound to be fruitless after all? To determine the answer, he decided to examine the leech's DNA in order to see if it had been altered in any way.

As he prepared to retrieve a skin sample, he detected something unusual about the leech. He hadn't noticed it at first, but upon closer inspection—it seemed to excrete a sort of clear liquid, almost like some type of slime. Leeches in their natural state do tend to have a slimy exterior, but this was…different. It seemed thicker, more cohesive. Even as the leech moved across the tray it was placed on, a trail of this slime was left behind, which hadn't previously been the case.

It certainly seemed as though this new discovery may have been caused by the virus, but did it serve any purpose? He decided that instead of simply analyzing a sample of the leech's skin right away, he would instead test this slime, in an attempt to discover its composition.

He scooped up some of the slime from the leech, then very carefully prepared it for use under the microscope. As he adjusted the magnification and looked through the eyepiece, he let out a gasp.

Strangely enough, the slime appeared to contain traces of the Progenitor virus itself. Could this mean that the virus actually wasn't able to adapt to the leech's DNA, so this was its attempt at expelling the virus from its body? Unless perhaps it was simply so potent that it was capable of remaining in the body while also releasing more of itself through the slime…

Either way, he also noticed that something about the virus seemed unusual. It appeared to possess a somewhat different structure than it had previously, which could be a result of a mutation. This was an important thing to take note of, but before he became too eager—he would still need to test a sample of the leech's skin to make certain that Progenitor did in fact combine with its genes.

He replaced the slide of the microscope with a new one, instead using the skin sample this time. Then looking through the eyepiece, he was instantly intrigued.

"Progenitor, it…" He muttered aloud as he collected his thoughts, making certain that he was correct in his judgement before uttering his next words. After a full minute of observing the sight from the microscope, he resumed his point. "Why…this is an entirely different strain!" He spoke with awe, an excited grin beginning to form on his features.

It was the same as the virus present in the slime—Progenitor had been able to assimilate with the subject's DNA, causing a mutation to take place within the body of the leech.

The exact effects of this new strain remained unknown, but it evidently must be the cause for the newly discovered slime secretion from the leech. Furthermore, the leech was still able to survive despite the drastic change in its genes.

With that being the case, it was quite possible that this was the exact outcome he was looking for—another step closer to a virus that will alter DNA without killing the host. His research into Progenitor has just reached a remarkable breakthrough!

But Progenitor…that name simply won't do anymore, will it? Now that it was an entirely new strain—one that holds extremely different properties—he couldn't keep referring to it with the same name. That would only become confusing, so a change was certainly in order.

He placed a hand on his chin, brainstorming possible names. He gave the original virus its name based on the fact that it had been Umbrella's first virus, the one that would lead into the creation of even more viruses in the future. It was the origin of their work; therefore, it became known as Progenitor.

But what could this one be? He had many ideas, but he eventually settled on the one that seemed the most…formidable. His decision had been for the name "Tyrant."

It may have sounded like an unusual choice, but he thought it was perfect. If this virus is capable of accomplishing his long-held dream of an improved human race, capable of elevating each person to their highest potential in both strength and intelligence, and possibly even more…then would it not be considered as a tyrant?

A tyrant that rules above all others, superior to everyone else in every possible way… That is what this virus shall function as, the most powerful virus—one that is truly superior to all the rest.

Still, Tyrant Virus doesn't exactly roll off the tongue… It may be easier if he simply referred to it as the T-Virus. After all, he has a feeling that he'll be making great use of this virus soon enough, so the simpler the name—the better.

Of course, this virus wasn't going to work as some sort of miracle that will instantly fulfill his life's work. He will, naturally, need to conduct many tests on it in order to study its effects. This can be achieved by using it on various types of creatures, in which he'll analyze the results in order to determine which species displays the most favorable characteristics in response to the virus. Then he'll be able to alter the virus so that he can make any necessary changes, so that it will reach its ideal potential.

Marcus couldn't contain his excitement at the thought of it. This discovery was the first big breakthrough in his research after so many years, so it was a tremendous occasion. With this, he'll no doubt be able to create an exceptional bioweapon as well, soon enough. Then he'll finally be able to surpass Spencer and secure his good status in the company. Everything he's been working for will soon be realized…

But wait…

Everything he's been working for…was to surpass Spencer? No, that couldn't be right.

He has always been working towards creating a virus that will help everyone, to benefit all of humanity. His goals were no different than they were in his youth, he was truly doing this for everyone's good. Surpassing Spencer was only an extra benefit, it wasn't his ultimate goal…

When all is said and done, he'll have a virus that can improve everyone, to make them better in every sense of the word. Then they'll be thrilled—because who wouldn't wish to reach their fullest potential?

Thus, he will forever be known as the outstanding scientist who accomplished what was previously thought impossible—a true godsend upon civilization.

He doesn't care about the fame itself, though. It would probably become more of a nuisance than anything, but oh well. The mere achievement alone was more than satisfactory to him. So he would be happy, and all of humanity would be happy!

Yes, everyone's happiness…

That was his ambition…of course.

* * *

_October 7__th__, 1977_

* * *

Ever since the breakthrough in his research, Marcus has received a huge morale boost that gave him an even greater dedication to his work. He's been working almost nonstop, heavily to his own detriment.

Most of the time, he only gets around three hours of sleep at best, in spite of the fact that he often stays up for days on end. On top of that, he barely even bothers to eat properly or stay hydrated. One look at him was enough evidence of these things, as he was very visibly drained.

Savage, being the only one that's even seen the man in weeks, noticed these behaviors. He often tried to suggest for Marcus to take a break, or to take better care of himself, but it always fell on deaf ears. Marcus would thank him for the concern, but he had no intention of taking any breaks. He was a busy man with much to do, and he refused to let some silly exhaustion hold him back.

However, there _was_ one thing that did threaten to hold him back…

Throughout his work, something continued to weigh on his mind—something rather irrelevant to his research, but he was unable to stop thinking about. It started about two weeks ago, when Davids gave him the usual report on the students. During this report, he received some exceptionally surprising news.

Apparently, Marcus had been too hasty in his judgement of the students this year. Yes, most of them were useless and of no value to him. But there were two students that showed a clear distinction from all the rest, both possessing an obvious superiority to truly set them apart from the group.

Their names were Albert Wesker and William Birkin.

According to Davids, these two weren't anything like the ordinary trainees. They were young, but incredibly gifted. They showed such intelligence and extensive knowledge in the sciences that they passed the entrance exams to the school with flying colors, both receiving perfect scores. Throughout the many years that the school has been open, no other student had been able to pull off such a feat—even despite all of them being much older than these two.

They also showed an intense devotion to their studies. Throughout their free time, they could always be seen with a book on some field of science in front of them, avidly taking notes. With this being the case, it was no surprise that they both received perfect scores on almost every test, as well.

It was possible that their dedication to their work could be a result of the slight competitive spirit they seemed to possess. It was obvious to everyone—themselves included—that they were better than the rest of the students, so it could be conceivable that they were actually competing with each other. It wouldn't be unusual, as the best of the best do often see the need to surpass each other. There can be only one number one, after all.

Although, despite their notable intellect, Davids did remark that there was something strange about them. They were wonderful students, no doubt. But their eyes, they…

Well, they seemed to convey a sort of…cruelty. This, on top of their rather cold and distant personalities, did make them somewhat unnerving. They weren't exactly the easiest to talk to, to say the least. Still, this wasn't to say that Davids had anything against them for it. He couldn't care less about what was going on in their heads, as long as they continued to show promise in their training.

But despite their many similarities, they did bear quite a few differences when it came to their personalities. Wesker had been more sensible, preferring to do things in a way that would logically present the best results, even if it goes against what the book says. Birkin, however, was much more studious and didn't like to take unnecessary risks. Because of this, Davids gave them the nicknames of "Practical Al" and "Scholarly Will."

That had been everything Davids told Marcus about them thus far and suffice to say—Marcus' interest was piqued. In ordinary circumstances, he would be unwilling to bother with any of the students, as it would only be a waste of time. But these two sounded like something quite special, so he may have been willing to make an exception.

However, he wouldn't formally introduce himself just yet. It would be best if he simply observed for some time, so that he may come to his own conclusion over how much potential they truly have. Still, he could certainly aid them from afar, could he not?

Of course, he didn't mean that he would help them by forcing the teachers to improve their grades, or anything ridiculous like that—not that they really needed the improvement anyway. Instead, he'll assist them by encouraging a rivalry between them.

Now, that may seem like a strange way to help someone, but he was quite confident in the benefits that they would receive from it. After all, he had his own rivalry with Spencer in their younger days. It did come with its fair share of ups and downs, but ultimately, it did aid him greatly. Through their many study-sessions and debates over various scientific matters, he was able to learn much more than he would have if his beliefs were never challenged.

Therefore, with the intelligence these two already possess, he could only imagine how much a rivalry would benefit them. They could easily rise to becoming world-renowned scientists in the future, no doubt. It would also bring him a small sense of delight to know that he will have aided them in accomplishing such a feat, so it was all the more reason to help create this sense of rivalry between them.

And since the report did mention them already having competitive personalities, this task should be easily accomplished. All they needed was for someone to push them a little farther into the right direction so that they can become complete rivals.

But naturally, he was still going to aid them from _afar_—as in, he wasn't going to do it himself. Instead, he'd call the man that came into contact with the two more than anyone, as well as the person who told him about them in the first place—none other than Davids.

Marcus briefly glanced at the small paper in his hand, fully taking in the sequence of numbers written on it. He then reached towards the glossy black rotary phone towards the corner of his chestnut brown desk, picking up the receiver and leisurely dialing each number.

There weren't many people that still used a rotary phone these days, so the fact that he still had one would typically be considered unusual. These phones did tend to be relatively slow when it came to inputting the numbers, so they were often considered a hassle to use.

Because of this, many people had been eager when the newest type of phone was unveiled a few years ago—a push-button phone. The name was self-explanatory, you only needed to push the buttons instead of turning a dial. Most people were quick to switch to this fresh and revolutionary style of phone—but not Marcus.

He always had been a man that tried to take best advantage of his time, so a faster phone should have been something he was excited for, yet he was not. There was a certain subtle beauty to slowly dialing each number, and he refused to let any new phones take that away from him. He hoped that those new push-button phones would phase out soon, once enough people come to their senses. But until then, he would continue using his old rotary phone, never bothering to upgrade to what society deems most appropriate.

As he finally finished dialing the numbers—and briefly reflecting on the foolish new inventions of society—the phone began to ring, the sound repeating for some time before being picked up.

"Assistant Director Davids of the Umbrella Executive Training Facility speaking, how can I help you?" The gruff voice spoke with a clear apathy.

"Davids, this is Director Marcus. I have a request for you." He replied sharply, not bothering to waste any time with idle chit-chat.

The man didn't speak for a few seconds, probably in disbelief from the source of the call. While Davids called Marcus often enough to give him the usual updates, Marcus almost never went out of his way to call anyone else. He likely figured this call must have been very urgent.

"Oh, Director Marcus? This is a surprise, but…what can I do for you?" He also chose to cut straight to the chase, knowing that the director wasn't much for small talk these days.

"You've told me about those two students the last time we spoke, Wesker and Birkin, as you may recall. I trust that they are continuing to exceed expectations?"

"Ahh, Al and Will." He spoke eagerly, making it evident that he must have been grinning at the mention of the two. "Yeah, they're doing great, no surprise there. They continue to do perfectly on every exam and show a much stronger enthusiasm for the sciences than any of the other idi—" He suddenly coughed loudly, quickly clearing his throat. "I mean…the other students."

His meaning was clear, but Marcus didn't really care either way. To call the other trainees idiots wouldn't have been unfitting, so he'd have to agree with him there. Still, he had to keep a professional image, so he chose to ignore it.

"Excellent. In that case, to get to my request…" He paused for a moment, maintaining a neutral tone before continuing. "I'd like for you to encourage a rivalry between the two."

"Eh…a rivalry?"

He clearly was dumbfounded, likely with good reason. The request must have seemed strange, especially coming from Marcus of all people—as he has made a point in recent years to completely disassociate himself from the affairs of the students. To suddenly show an interest now must have come as quite the revelation.

Davids briskly regained his composure, continuing. "So you want them to be rivals, huh? I won't ask your reasons, but…" He trailed off quietly, before his voice suddenly perked up. "No problem. If that's what you want, I'll have them tearing at each other's throats."

"Perfect." Marcus gave a smile of relief, grateful that the man didn't give him any trouble over the odd request. "Thank you, Davids. I look forward to hearing the results."

With that, he placed the receiver back onto the base, satisfied with how the conversation unfolded. It had been quick and to the point, just as he preferred.

Marcus had full confidence that Davids would be able to get the job done, since he _was_ one of the primary instructors of the students. Being their teacher, he could easily bend situations into a way that would discreetly instigate a feeling of competition between the two, allowing the rivalry to blossom.

While Wesker and Birkin may not appreciate his efforts at the moment—in part due to them not having the knowledge of his involvement—they surely will look back on his actions thankfully, someday.

* * *

_October 18__th__, 1977_

* * *

It has been almost two weeks since Marcus first made the call to Davids. He did return most of his attention to his research after that, but Davids has been calling him more frequently to give updates on how his objective has been going. For once, Marcus actually would look forward to hearing these reports about the students. They undoubtedly were a lot more interesting when they were about students that actually retained some level of intelligence, rather than the usual morons.

According to the reports, Wesker and Birkin already seemed as if they were beginning to develop an even greater competitive spirit than before. Davids did notice that when he would call on one of them to answer a question in class, the other would often express discontent in some way—albeit subtly.

They also seemed to spend more time studying—despite already spending most of their time doing so—and were even venturing to read some books on subjects that were not especially prominent in their classes. The information may not have been essential, but no extra knowledge gained is ever truly a bad thing. With that being the case, it would seem this rivalry is already encouraging them to increase their intellect.

Truthfully, Marcus had been astounded by the news. He had no idea that they would begin to see results so swiftly. Davids must have been even better at his job than he had thought, because the results were undeniably remarkable…

This turn of events did cause Marcus to consider taking action. He hadn't intended to do this so soon, but…it may be time for him to make his formal introduction to the two.

Their rivalry will likely continue to grow as time goes on, but what effect would a direct meeting with the first director of the school have on their work ethic? While not meaning to sound vain, this meeting _would_ be considered a high honor—at least according to ordinary beliefs. So would it not influence them to strive for even greater ideals?

That—in combination with their already escalating rivalry—could truly have a significant impact on their academic capabilities. He couldn't even imagine how impressive they could become as a result of this.

If this theory is correct, then he would be clearly doing them a great favor for their future. So while he normally had no interest in helping people so heavily, he did know a great mind when he saw it. And with how much potential Wesker and Birkin had, it would be a travesty to _not_ help them capitalize on it. They will, without a doubt, do great things in their future. Thus, he may as well do his part to help them along the way, right?

Marcus had been walking hastily through the halls of the facility, his stern demeanor and unsmiling expression evident that he was on an important objective—with no time to be interrupted by any of the students he passed.

Though, many of them didn't bother to say anything to him, as they were instead stunned by the fact that they had even been seeing the man. His presence in the facility itself was exceedingly rare, so besides him being present to give his speech at the beginning of the school year—this was the first time they had even seen him, for quite a few of the students. But at the moment, he didn't look like the most approachable fellow, so now wasn't exactly the time to introduce themselves, anyhow.

Marcus disregarded their bewildered expressions, instead continuing on his trek to his office. He passed through the large classroom, which only contained a few students conversing amongst themselves, as school hours were already closed for the day. He crossed the room and opened the heavy steel double door, arriving in a small and narrow corridor.

The corridor was dim, with the majority of its lighting being the two small lamps in the center of the hall, both of them working to illuminate the sturdy bronze door that they lay beside. This did give the door an air of radiance, as if it had been incredibly significant in contrast to the other rooms. That may have been fitting, seeing as that door did lead to Marcus' office.

He arrived in the room, closing the heavy door behind him before turning and taking in his surroundings. The faint sheen of the polished wood flooring, the dull charcoal of the wallpaper, as well as the elegant burgundy carpet that lay beneath the sturdy desk… Despite having spent so much time in this room in the past, he sure has forgotten about what it looked like. He supposed being in the lab for many consecutive months will do that to a person.

There had been one mocha-colored chair with a cozy green cushion embedded into it, situated directly in front of the desk. Clearly, he never moved it back into its proper place from the last time he had a guest in this room.

This did make him think…when _was_ the last time he had a visitor here? It was undeniably a while ago, that much was obvious. But it didn't matter anyway. He was instead relieved that the chair was never moved, as a second chair would soon be joining it.

He strolled over to the small space in the west of the room, grabbing a matching chair and lugging it to the side of the first one. As he was finished, he removed his gold-plated pocket watch from his suit and took a quick look at the time.

"5:52… Good, I'm in time for our meeting."

He was, naturally, referring to his meeting with the students Wesker and Birkin. He didn't actually believe that he'd be late, but he was thankful to have a few more minutes left for preparation, nonetheless.

He settled into the leather chair behind his desk, idly resting his cheek in his palm as he contemplated how the conversation will unfold.

Truthfully, he wasn't much for talking these days, so he wasn't entirely looking forward to it. Undoubtedly he was thrilled to meet such brilliant upcoming scientists, but the actual discussion aspect… He would need to recall the professional niceties he was supposed to say in times like these, he figured.

But it would be fine, the main point of this conversation was to merely introduce himself, anyhow. Even he was still capable of that, so there was no cause for concern.

He did wonder, though… What exactly are these two like? They were smart, obviously, but what about beyond that? Davids did remark that there was something rather callous about them—something about their eyes being cruel, was it? Marcus was no expert on eyes, but the comparison did seem unusual. Surely Davids was just overthinking it…

A sudden loud knock was heard at the door, pulling Marcus out of his thoughts. Apparently, he'd be finding the answer to his question very shortly.

Gazing towards the source of the noise, he promptly responded with a "Come in."

The door gradually opened, the sight of the two students slowly coming into view.

The one with dark blonde hair had been the first to take a step forward, speaking calmly. "Director Marcus, we've received word from the assistant director that you wished to speak with us." His neutral expression shifted to a faint frown. "We have not done anything wrong, have we?"

He had been a bit surprised by the question, but he soon realized it was a logical response. He never chose to meet with any of the students, so suddenly deciding to meet with a few of them probably would seem worrisome…

"Oh no, not in the slightest." He quickly clarified, shaking his head. "In fact, it's quite the opposite. I've heard that you both have done remarkable work, so…" He glanced back to them, noticing that they were still standing by the door somewhat uneasily. "Ah…but perhaps first, you should take a seat."

Heeding his instructions, the blonde crossed the room and settled into the chair across from the large desk. The other man seemed a tad reluctant, but he soon complied as well, making himself comfortable in the formerly empty chair.

As they were both seated, Marcus continued. "All right then…" He began, giving a friendly smile. "As I'm sure you already know, I am the director of this school, James Marcus. And you two are…" He trailed off, suddenly aware that he wasn't actually sure which one was which. Still, he did his best to take a guess based on what Davids had told him.

He looked towards the stoic student first, tilting his head somewhat inquisitively. "I would assume you are Albert Wesker, yes?" He questioned, fairly certain that he was correct in his judgement.

His face remained wholly indifferent, but he did give a quick nod. "Yes, that's correct, Sir. It's a pleasure to meet you, Director Marcus."

Marcus' smile grew, this time due to his relief, before turning his attention to the other man. "So, that leaves you as William Birkin."

He responded with a slight smile, nodding. "Yes, Sir… It's nice to meet you."

Now that the official introductions were out of the way, Marcus took the moment to observe their appearances. The thing that stood out to him most was that they were incredibly young, but Davids did tell him as much. Wesker was only seventeen, but he was rather tall for his age. Birkin, on the other hand, was only fifteen, and his height was quite revealing of that fact. If Marcus didn't know any better, he would have thought Birkin had been a lost child wandering into his office…

Yet no matter how young they may be, their intellect was far beyond any of the other students. It was fascinating, these two must have been quite the prodigies.

Wesker also had dark blonde hair and dim blue eyes, the shade of blue complementing his rather pale skin. He displayed a rather stern expression that was seemingly plastered onto his face. He struck Marcus as the quiet and serious type.

Birkin's hair was darker, more of a dirty blonde, along with having icy blue eyes. His youthful face seemed to convey that he was somewhat nervous, and his posture was also very tense. Marcus figured he probably wasn't the very talkative sort.

They also evidently chose to dress formally for this meeting, as Wesker wore a posh navy-blue suit while Birkin wore a lighter shade of blue. Their proper attire was a fine showing of respect, so Marcus did appreciate it.

"Well, introductions aside…" Marcus spoke calmly as he folded his hands together, continuing the discussion. "Why don't you tell me about yourselves? Your aspirations as scientists, why you chose to join Umbrella…" His lips formed a faint smile. "You both are wonderful students, as I am told. I'd be pleased to hear whatever it is that gives you so much resolve."

The two looked towards each other for a brief second, likely wondering which of them should go first. Birkin's slight grimace seemed to indicate that he didn't want to, so Wesker took the opportunity instead.

"I'm afraid my reasons are not so out of the ordinary…" He began with a frown. "I merely wish to use my abilities to make a difference in the world—to change it for the better, I suppose." He looked away as he contemplated the second question.

"As for why I chose to join Umbrella… I believe it would have to be because I heard the company was led by several big names in the science field, yourself included, of course." He returned his stern gaze to the man. "With such famous scientists in the company, I knew that I would not be wasting my time here. I would be able to learn and better myself, rather than if I had chosen any of the many inferior companies out there."

"Forgive me if this comes across as vain, but…" Wesker gave a sudden and almost menacing grin, sharply contrasting the harsh expression he had previously shown. "I do pride myself on my abilities, and any chance I can obtain to become superior—I will take without hesitation. So, naturally, Umbrella was the obvious choice."

Marcus had been stunned by the man's boldness, but he soon smiled, nodding eagerly. "Oh yes, that is an especially important trait to have in this field. It's always for the best to aspire to greater heights, so that you may achieve all that you can in your life." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Such a trait is often viewed negatively, but I would have to disagree. It's much better to strive for superiority, rather than to be content with being inferior…"

His expression formed a faint frown as he began to reflect. "I've seen many of those sorts of foolish people in my lifetime. They had become complacent with their position in life, so they chose to aim for absolute mediocrity... Their place in the field of science would surely be a waste."

He then shook his head, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Ah, but pardon my rambling…" He turned to Birkin and resumed. "Birkin, how about you? What are your aspirations?"

Birkin appeared to be surprised by the mention, almost as if he forgot that they were having a conversation. Apparently, he had already been deep in thought.

"Oh…my aspirations?" Birkin mumbled thoughtfully as he placed a hand on his chin, beginning his contemplation. "I suppose I wish to achieve all that I can, so that I can make many significant discoveries as a scientist." He then smiled cheerily. "I'd also like to gain as much knowledge as I can. Knowledge is the most important thing one can obtain in life, after all, as true power is derived from wisdom."

Marcus had been listening intently, smiling eagerly as he finished speaking. It was strange to hear such a statement coming from one so young, but he was clearly a smart kid, so he figured it shouldn't be such a surprise.

"I couldn't agree more." He replied with glee, nodding. "You know, I actually felt the same way when I was your age. Many men wish for strength alone, but in reality, the strongest man is nothing without intelligence."

"Oh, but beyond that…" Marcus gave a quick shake of his head, not wanting to get into another rant again. He instead decided to redirect the conversation before it could get too derailed. "So, why did you choose to use your intelligence for Umbrella's sake?"

The boy frowned, crossing his arms as he pondered the question. "Well, there were numerous companies that invited me to join, but most of them seemed very middling. Umbrella appeared to be the best option, given the choices."

He placed his hand on his chin while attempting to remember more of what the situation had been at the time. "Oh, right… I also heard about the company having a lot of fairly renowned scientists, so I suppose that did make it seem like the more promising option, as well."

"Is that so?" Marcus questioned as he nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe Umbrella does have quite a few promising workers, at least in the company itself. The other students at this school, however…aren't quite as impressive, if I'm being perfectly honest..."

It probably wasn't very professional of him to insult the other students to these two, but he couldn't help it. Wesker and Birkin were smart, anyhow, so surely they had noticed it as well.

"Yes, that is quite true, unfortunately…" Wesker nodded, crossing his arms with a low sigh. "I would have expected a company with such good standing as Umbrella to have much better recruits, but I suppose it's only fair to employ even those that are a bit more...inept."

"I wish they wouldn't." Birkin raised his arms in an apathetic shrug, shaking his head in discontent. "How are those with actual intelligence supposed to learn if they're surrounded by fools? For everyone's sake, it would be best to keep the smart people together, while the idiots remain on their own." A deep frown was present on his face, a clear indication that he was rather passionate about the subject.

Marcus could only chuckle at the little outburst, shaking his head. "You do have a point there. If I had it my way, I'd honestly prefer to do something of the sort, but…" He trailed off, developing a small frown of his own. "We still do need to give everyone a fair chance here, I suppose. It's always a possibility that one day, even the students that seemed lacking will accomplish something amazing. It would be a shame to deprive them of that opportunity."

"I wouldn't hold my breath…" The young man muttered with a pout.

Marcus did agree, but he really should attempt to maintain a level of professionalism, so he only chuckled before preparing to move on.

"Anyhow, I suppose that does encompass the main questions I wanted to ask… I don't wish to waste all of your time, so I'll get to the conclusion." He began, deciding to move the conversation forward. "Truthfully, I was very eager when I heard that you two had joined this school. You both sounded like wonderful students from mere reports alone, and from what I've seen, those reports certainly were not wrong."

"I can already see that both of you will do great things in the future. So if you ever need anything, please, let me know. I'd be happy to help you in any way that I can." He folded his hands together, complementing his conclusion with a warm smile.

"Delighted to hear it. Thank you, Director Marcus." Wesker responded, the faintest trace of a smile present in his expression.

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you." Birkin added in happily.

With that, their meeting had concluded. It wasn't the longest conversation, but it was enough for him to introduce himself and get a better judgement of their character, so it was more than adequate. And for the first time in a while, he actually enjoyed having a conversation! This was truly an exceptional occasion indeed. He only hoped that he did a decent enough job of remaining friendly and professional, as that wasn't the easiest thing for him to do these days…

The two departed to return to their dorm, likely to study, while Marcus prepared to return to his lab. He had no intention of lingering in the facility for any longer than necessary, as he was determined to get back to his work. He didn't mind this small distraction from it, though.

Those two were something special, that was certain. Even such a brief time of knowing them was enough for him to realize this.

The most conclusive evidence was that they both had lofty and impressive ambitions—the first sign of a brilliant scientist in the making. A scientist is nothing without ambitions and desires, and this was definitely something that they did not lack.

Marcus wouldn't even be surprised to see them making huge discoveries and accomplishments within the next few years. He wasn't sure if they'd actually need his help along the way, but he genuinely wouldn't mind if they did. This was an offer he would never extend to the other students, or, well…most people, at this point. So, the fact that he had been so willing to was quite notable. But maybe he had also taken such a liking to the two because in a way, they bore a great resemblance to he and Spencer in their youth.

Wesker was peculiarly—and almost disturbingly—similar to Spencer. His mannerisms and even the tone of his voice…they portrayed a certain arrogance that Spencer had always been known for. His attraction to the idea of being superior to his peers was also strongly reminiscent of the man, having been something that he often talked about in the past. Spencer was always especially scornful towards any actions that he perceived to be a waste of time as well, just as Wesker felt towards the idea of joining any lesser-known companies.

He noticed so many of these similarities throughout their conversation that Marcus almost began to feel like he was actually talking to a younger Spencer, at times. It was…rather unsettling, frankly.

Likewise, Birkin did bear some similarities to Marcus as well. The most prominent one had been Birkin's desire to obtain the utmost knowledge, and his belief in wisdom being the basis of all great power. Marcus had said these same words on several occasions back then. But even beyond his beliefs, he couldn't help noticing a resemblance with their personalities too.

Birkin attempted to behave in a pleasant and professional manner, but he did appear to be a bit more on the anti-social side. He had been rather reluctant to enter the office, and he wasn't quite as willing to talk about himself like Wesker was. He also seemed to space out during the conversation, already deep in thought about who knows what.

Marcus had been incredibly introverted in his younger days, so he was no stranger to those sorts of behaviors. He had done them himself for many years, although as he got a little older, he did start to become ruder due to his anti-social ways, rather than merely being shy. Hopefully, Birkin won't follow in his footsteps with that particular attitude in the future…

Resemblances aside, Marcus did have high hopes for these two. He would be looking forward to seeing what they're able to accomplish in the future.

But, as for now…he needed to get back to work. The T-Virus wasn't going to develop itself, after all.

* * *

_October 23rd, 1977_

* * *

A few weeks ago, even before his meeting with the students, Marcus began a new step of his work with the developmental T-virus. He has now eagerly returned to that work.

He often used rodents in his research, but he has started to experiment on several species that he suspected would give some sort of promising results.

The first test had been focused on the Insecta class, with the variable being a combination of the DNA taken from several varieties of insects. The modified DNA was placed into a fertilized egg, with Progenitor serving as a retroviral vector. Upon hatching, the subject quickly showed signs of large bursts of energy and amplified aggressiveness. It also grew extraordinarily in a rather short period of time, reaching an incredible size not previously thought possible for any of the species that its DNA originates from. Marcus named the specimen the "Plague Crawler."

He decided that he would continue to keep it in containment for the time being, but he didn't have many expectations for the subject's use as a bio organic weapon—or B.O.W. for short.

It likely was a result of the insects having existed with relative genetic stability since ancient times, as the effects were merely enhanced versions of the traits it already possessed. Without any new gains—such as an increase in intelligence—it would be impossible to control them, thus severely limiting their potential as a B.O.W.

The second test was based on the Amphibia class, with the virus being administered to a bullfrog. This test proved to be more beneficial than the previous one, with the subject gaining not only incredible growth but also an increased jumping power, as well as strengthened abilities with its tongue. This could be useful, as that would aid it greatly in catching prey, therefore functioning fairly well as a weapon. He decided to call it the "Lurker."

It also developed a tremendous appetite, and due to its large size, it could potentially be capable of swallowing an entire human with ease. Likewise, because of that hunger, it attempted to swallow anything that moved. Such a trait is extremely dangerous, so without any way to control it, it would be rendered useless. He had no interest in using it as a B.O.W., and with how close he came to becoming frog food on the day he created it—he was almost glad for this outcome.

His third and most recent test was on the Mammalia class, specifically on a macaque breed of monkey. He administered the virus to a pregnant monkey, in which the virus successfully assimilated with its DNA, but no changes in the subject were observed. Instead, the offspring was the one that acquired the altered characteristics.

Unlike the prior subjects, it did not gain an increase in size, but it did gain extreme aggressiveness on top of an improvement in its intelligence. It also possessed higher than average hearing abilities, although this was likely a compensation for its slight loss in eyesight. He named this subject the "Eliminator."

From the previous experiments, it should be noted that the virus does cause a sort of erosion to the brain cells, generally resulting in a reduced intelligence. And while the Eliminator did receive that same erosion to an extent, the effects were not enough to negatively impact it—even permitting it to receive a positive boost to its intellect instead.

Because of this, the Eliminator could actually be controlled somewhat, as it would be capable of following simple commands. Although, it also gained a rapid metabolism that resulted in it having a constant and extreme hunger—which only served to add to its aggression.

His first observation, overall, had been that the new strain of the virus did seem to present results significantly better than the prior one. The initial version of Progenitor would only kill its host, due to the rapid internal mutations causing the almost immediate destruction of the cells.

The T-Virus, however, was capable of decelerating the mutation and allowing the body to gradually assimilate with it, although the mutations still weren't slow enough to avoid producing damage to the body tissue.

No doubt, the most successful of his experiments had been the Eliminator. The most important trait a B.O.W. can retain is the ability to be controlled, which the Eliminator did have, at least somewhat. But it was clear that their level of intelligence would impose a severe limit on their potential, regardless.

With some alterations to the virus, it would be feasible to make a slight improvement, but would that be enough? A slightly better version of the creature was still only above-average at best—it was far from being the ideal B.O.W. that would secure his position in the company. He could never prove himself as one of Umbrella's top scientists with something so meagre, so there was really no need to waste any further effort on them.

But in that case, what could he do? All of these experiments, in essence, yielded mediocre results. Even the Eliminators, which he had high hopes for, were without any actual value. If he is unable to figure something out, his research will remain at a standstill and he'll never make any progress…

"No… I still have options, of course…" Marcus mumbled to himself as he flipped through the various pages of his notebook, each one detailing one of his experiments.

It was much too soon to give up hope. He only needed to think about it more, to find the creature that will allow him to advance his work. So far, the Mammalia class provided the most impressive results, so perhaps he should continue to focus on this class.

He would need to determine which mammal would give the most favorable results—one that already possessed a high enough level of intelligence that would allow it to be controlled...

"…Humans could be a possibility…" As soon as the words left his lips, he let out a small gasp.

No, he couldn't possibly use humans as the base. In the virus' current state, he has no idea what sort of effects it would impose on them. It may not outright kill them, but the mutations could cause potentially devastating damage. In such a scenario, the subject would surely wish that they were dead…

Although…he didn't know for _sure_ that this would be the case. It was still a possibility that the mutations could actually be beneficial, a mere improvement on the abilities that humans already possess. And since humans do have the highest level of intelligence, the virus could possibly strengthen it to an incredible degree. In fact, the results could be similar to what his ultimate ambition had been in his youth—to make a virus that would allow a human to become enhanced in all of their natural capabilities. Then along with the virus most likely not causing their death, this situation would conceivably be nothing but positive.

But at this point, he truthfully hasn't thought much of his former goal in relation to his research. It once had been the only thing he would think about, and in more recent times, he would still at least tell himself that it remained as his objective. Yet his reassurance of this had only fallen on deaf ears—a mere denial of his straying beliefs.

Now, the lone ambition that lingered in his mind was the idea of using the virus to create a B.O.W. that would allow him to surpass Spencer. He's become so sick and tired of remaining in that man's shadow, forced to follow along with wherever his whims may happen to fall. Spencer has continued to increase his power over the years, but what did Marcus have to show for all of his effort? Nothing!

Marcus has spent nine years at the facility doing research that has yet to provide any true advances. The new strain of the virus was an amazing breakthrough, but if he's unable to use that strain for anything meaningful, what good would it do for him? It would only ever be another waste of time, causing him to fall farther and farther behind that man's trail.

Even now, Spencer's strength continues to grow. Is there any particular reason that he desires so much control? He already has quite a lot, being the only one actually recognized as a founder and leader of Umbrella. Could it be that he is perchance planning something big, soon? Maybe he's planning to make new arrangements to the company, perhaps to get rid of the person with the second highest level of power, even if their status still could never compare to his. But to imagine, the amount of authority he would have in that case…Spencer would truly rule everything.

No, Marcus could never allow this outcome… He would not allow all of his effort to be in vain. He _will_ create a B.O.W. that will allow him to move up in the company, so that he can finally stand on-par with Spencer. And then someday, he will ascend even higher than him. Yes, he knows that this will become his reality…

However, in order to create that reality…he has no choice but to advance his research by using humans as the base organism. This was not something that he wished to do, as the possibility for a negative outcome was quite plausible. If the experiment does cause the death of the host, then their blood will be on his hands. Will he be able to accept such a fate? To know that he killed someone, all for the sake of his research…

Still, there was the potential for a highly beneficial outcome, as well. The subject might not die, and they may even be better off than they were before. And even if the human cannot function as a B.O.W., Marcus could at least use the results to determine what changes he would need to make to the virus. Then, perhaps he could use the new virus to create a better version of his previous bioweapons. Either way, it would surely be a step in the right direction with his research, so it would be far from a wasted opportunity.

Yet, this is all only speculation. At this point, there was no way to know which direction the result will go in. Overwhelmingly positive, or terribly negative… It could be either, really.

The one certainty, however, is that he will never know the result unless he actually attempts to do it.

Would he be willing to take the risk—to potentially bring about the death of a fellow human being?

Or will he forget the idea altogether—to potentially seal his fate as Spencer's inferior forever?

The answer…was obvious.


	5. Decisions, Decisions

_October 26th, 1977_

* * *

With each day that passed, Marcus' unease over his next course of action continued to soar. He could often be seen seated in his lab with his weary eyes transfixed on the files that detailed his experiments, his mind constantly racing back and forth in order to ascertain if there had been another option. But no matter how many times he read the hypotheses and results outlined in the paperwork, the only theory that remained promising was that the test subjects would need to be human in order to be viable. Anything less simply would not do, as they would only bear results that were far less than satisfactory.

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his chin onto his palm, his pale blue eyes dull and dispirited. Not only was he exhausted from dedicating so much of his time to figuring out this dilemma, he also hasn't slept in several days. Now, it wasn't as if this was particularly unusual for him, but it certainly didn't help his clarity of mind while dealing with such a delicate situation.

_Even if I were to use humans as the base organism, how exactly would I find willing subjects? No one in their right mind would agree, especially if they knew how probable the hazards are with this particular virus… _

Marcus thought bleakly to himself, too physically and mentally drained to even speak aloud. He let out a soft yawn afterwards, his eyes sluggishly trailing over to the large clock that rested on the wall.

He grimaced at the sight. The hands clearly read 3:36, in which he was still rational enough to know that it meant AM. It would really be for the best if he went to sleep, so that he could at least wake up and be a little more levelheaded. Then he would be able to look at his work with a renewed mind, which may have been precisely what he needed. Alas, he was a rather stubborn man when it came to his research, so he refused to rest before reaching his decision.

While he does remain reluctant, he has essentially made peace with the idea that he has no choice but to use humans. The potential for a fatal outcome was still quite high, but what other options were left?

Zero, to be exact. Continuing to experiment with his B.O.W.s would be a pointless endeavor—the benefits would never outweigh the cost of time and resources, so he had no reason to bother. If he ever plans to progress in his research, then he'll just need to accept this, which he mostly already has.

But now, the problem lies in the fact that he has no idea how to find humans that would willingly participate. Certainly, he was quite sure that finding _willing_ participants would be impossible. But…to find unwilling participants…

…He would hate to do such a thing; it no doubt would weigh heavily on his subconscious. However, ultimately, his research took priority over all else. He could never jeopardize it, no, not now…

Everything he has done throughout his life—every experiment, every discovery…it all has led up to this. He threw away his old life of being an ordinary scientist the day he agreed to go on the journey to Africa, where he would end up discovering the Progenitor virus. That finding had changed everything. He could no longer settle for making unremarkable discoveries about some insignificant virus going around. That was much too plain, too simple…

His research into Progenitor, however… It was such a unique virus; he has never seen one quite like it. Its effects were so extreme, with it either causing the near-instantaneous death of the individual or being capable of granting the lucky few many wondrous abilities. Although he has yet to see the latter in-person, so he only has the tales of the Ndipaya to go off of.

Still, he has no reason to doubt the validity of the story. The advancement of the Ndipaya kingdom as well as their amazing constructions even in ancient times does make more sense when you consider the fact that the virus may have been involved. With the talents it supposedly grants, it's no wonder that they would be able to create such magnificent structures. And beyond that, the tribe did worship the Progenitor flowers for a reason. Would it not make sense for the reason to be that the flowers truly did bestow upon them legendary capabilities?

That said, with such an exceptional virus in his possession, he'd be a fool to let it go to waste. If he needs to commit certain…unpleasant actions in order to make an astonishing new breakthrough, well…what exactly was stopping him? He had an impressive and sizeable lab all to himself, with all of the resources he could possibly need to continue his experiments. The only thing standing in his way was the lack of human subjects.

_Unless…_

In that moment, a realization dawned on him. The training facility _had_ humans. A lot of them, too. The employees, and even the students… Why, the answer had been right in front of him all along! How had he been so foolish as to miss something so obvious? Apparently, his sleep deprivation had actually been a source of newfound clarity. He could use one of them as his subject!

This revelation marks another step on his journey to success. He had no idea who he would use, but he would figure that out later. Instead, for the moment he'll focus on how he'll actually conduct the experiment. As he already established, no sane person would agree to it knowing that there is a high possibility of their death, so he may need to resort to injection of the virus by surprise.

While he may attempt to think of it objectively, he was well aware of the moral implications of this suggestion. To inject someone with a virus that possesses a strong probability to kill was already highly immoral, but to force it upon them in an act of surprise as well… Even he was capable of seeing that such behavior was quite depraved.

He'll need to live with his decisions, no matter how cruel he will be perceived as. But it wasn't as if he took pleasure in the idea of murdering someone—if this could even be considered as such. It was merely a requirement for his research to advance, nothing more. If any lives are lost in the process, that would be quite regrettable. And yet…

Sacrifices are continuously made over and over when it comes to achieving success. This is true of science and also life in general. Only a fool would go through life believing that they'll achieve great things without their victory being at the expense of something—or someone—else. A fact that is lost on many is that, in reality—life is not fair.

Fortunately for Marcus, however, he was already quite aware of this truth. Therefore, he understood that his research was no exception. He _will_ experiment on humans, and no matter how the results turn out—he'll need to face the consequences. It may not have been the decision he would have hoped for, but it couldn't be avoided. He was simply relieved to have finally reached his decision. He already begun to feel as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

His body must have felt the same, as it immediately began to loosen and his eyelids grew heavier. Before he knew it, his back started to gradually lean farther from his chair and towards the table. As soon as his head reached the surface, he was already out—falling into a deep and much-needed rest.

* * *

_October 27__th__, 1977_

* * *

As tired as Marcus had been yesterday, he only slept for about four hours. He was unable to go back to sleep due to the fierce vigor he awoke with, determined to devise every action he must take in order to conduct his experiment. He spent the day formulating his plan, and quickly decided that there was no time to waste. Now that his plan was set, he will begin his preparations as well as the initiation of the experiment today.

First, he prepared to make a call to the training facility. He has already looked through his files outlining all of the employees and students at the school, in which he eventually decided on an employee named Kyle Mathews.

Mathews was the perfect choice for this experiment, in several aspects. He was a young adult male with no known health defects—which was fortunate since Marcus was not yet sure if health issues could pose a risk to the success of the virus' assimilation. He was also never married and didn't have any children, along with not having any close relatives. That would be beneficial since if Mathews does meet with a fatal outcome, at least Marcus won't need to deal with the grieving and angered family of the man.

Even better, Mathews was one of the employees formerly designated as one of his lab assistants. Marcus naturally never needed nor wanted the help, so he sent the man—as well as the other lab helpers—to the training facility to assist the employees there instead. But now, Marcus would be able to request the man's return to the lab so that he can "help" in his experiments.

And since Savage was currently on vacation, now was a better time than any. It would be much easier to make use of the lab for this objective while he was away, as it could become quite problematic if his work were discovered. Even without knowing the exact result yet, Marcus had no doubt that he would be reported for misconduct. That would be a serious setback to his research, if not an entire termination of it, so he has no intention of getting caught.

Finally ready to begin his plan, Marcus dialed the number for the school, and a man's voice was soon heard.

"Umbrella Executive Training Facility, how can I help?" The voice spoke in a calm and professional manner.

Marcus had no idea who it was that was speaking, but it probably wasn't the person he was looking for. This one was likely an instructor, or someone of a similar status.

"This is Dr. Marcus. I need to speak with Kyle Mathews." His reply was blunt, speaking not even a single unnecessary word.

"O-oh, Director Marcus?" The man replied, his bewilderment evident by the tone of his voice. "Uh, yes, not a problem, Sir. I'll go get him, straight away!" A small thud was then heard, with faint footsteps following immediately after.

It didn't take long for Marcus to begin tapping his fingers on the desk in anticipation, hoping that the employee won't return to explain that Mathews isn't around, or something like that. He couldn't afford any impediments right now. If he is unable to find Mathews, he'll need to decide on a different person…

"Hello, Director Marcus?" A new and deeper voice emerged minutes later, presumably belonging to Mathews.

Marcus was relieved to hear that there were no difficulties in locating the man—so he won't need a change of plans—but he disguised this delight with a neutral attitude.

"Mathews, I have a favor to ask of you. Would you be able to meet me at the lab?" He spoke quickly and straightforwardly, as he often did. "I apologize for the short notice, but it's quite important..."

"Wow, really?" He was surprised by the request, but he quickly collected his bearings, clearing his throat in the process. "Ah, sure, okay…" Mathews mumbled, still possessing a faint trace of amazement. "I mean, it's a little late, but if it's that urgent…" He trailed off for a moment, likely contemplating the offer. "…Well, okay then. Would it be all right if I meet you in an hour?"

"Yes, that won't be an issue. Thank you, and goodbye for now." With that, Marcus placed the receiver onto its base, resulting in a loud click.

He stood, lightly stretching his arms before releasing a soft sigh. "I suppose this is it, then… There's no turning back now. Whether my research advances or ceases will depend upon this outcome..."

He grabbed some paperwork as he stepped away from his desk, preparing to enter his lab and begin his final arrangements. "I can only hope…that the result will be worth the cost."

* * *

An hour passed in the blink of an eye. Marcus spent the majority of the time attempting to tidy up the lab, at least enough to make it look presentable. It was starting to become a mess, since Savage hasn't been around to organize it for the past few days.

Papers had obscured the entirety of the tables, with a few stray files finding their way onto the floor as well. Thankfully, he now placed all of them into proper order, so it wouldn't serve as a distraction to him during his experiment. Still, the floors and such weren't exactly clean, but oh well. He didn't need to worry about such trivialities, anyway. His primary goal was merely to organize the files so that Mathews wouldn't lay his eyes on anything that he didn't need to know about.

Besides, even the sullied appearance of the room would function as a part of his plan. It will certainly make his performance much more convincing, soon enough.

Speaking of, he also prepared the syringe containing the T-Virus, along with a tranquilizer for ease of injection. He carefully hid them behind some of the other substances on the cabinet, in which they would only be seen if Mathews for some reason decided to move the chemicals around. But naturally, Marcus wouldn't give him the opportunity. The deed will be done before the man gains even the slightest of clues.

…Truthfully, he felt appalled by the need to sneak around like some sort of common criminal, but to the eyes of the masses…perhaps that's exactly what he would soon become.

Was there truth to their words? Almost undoubtedly. But…he couldn't allow himself to think of it. He couldn't afford to lose his courage, especially not in such a crucial moment…

Besides, even if they do think harshly of him, would it really affect him so much? He didn't think so. In fact, it would be no different than how it was when he was in college. His peers always looked down on him and viewed him as being strange because of how extraordinarily intelligent he was—as if that were an actual reason to disparage someone—so he was used to it.

But if they could view him in such a way even without him ever committing a single atrocity…why should he even care about their opinions? Their views were obsolete and inconsistent, anyhow. To place any true value in them would be ridiculous, would it not?

He will merely do as he has done throughout his life. Ignore the beliefs of the idiotic masses, while bettering himself and striving for even greater accomplishments. Only a fool would value remaining perfectly virtuous over honing their talents to become the best that they could possibly be.

In the end, they may call him many things—but a fool would not be one of them.

A quick glance at the clock was enough to tell him that it was 8:03 PM—the time that Mathews should be arriving at. Marcus left his laboratory and briskly made his way to the entrance of the building, standing before the elevator. He could already hear the soft hum of its descent, a discreet announcement of the man's impending arrival.

He forced a faint smile onto his expression as he waited, doing his best to emit a professional and stalwart air. He almost succeeded, if not for his face being riddled with exhaustion. The few hours of sleep he had this morning weren't exactly enough to change that, unfortunately.

_Ding!_

The final declaration sounded, causing Marcus to quickly gulp as he watched the doors slowly slide apart. The sight gradually revealed a man of average height, his dark brown hair messy and disheveled, along with having a faint trace of stubble on his chin. His chestnut eyes were directed towards the buttons of the elevator, but they instantly darted forward once he saw the older man in his peripherals. He was a bit taken aback, likely figuring the man wouldn't have been there to greet him. Still, he shook it off and gave a somewhat shaky smile along with a wave.

"Oh, hey there, Director Marcus…" As Mathews departed the elevator, the doors quickly slammed shut behind him. This was such a typical occurrence, yet the knowledge of this did little to prevent the chill that creeped through his spine. He quickly folded his arms together, hoping the act would give him a sense of warmth in what suddenly felt like such a frigid room. "Ah…it's a little cold in here, isn't it? If I had known, I would have brought a jacket…" He mumbled with a nervous chuckle, before promptly doing his best to give a cheery grin. "What are you researching around here anyway, snowmen?" He joked, although the humor was apparently lost on the man across from him.

His expression was blank as his head tilted to the side. "Is it? I can't say that I've noticed, myself…" He mumbled aloofly, but then quickly formed a small smile in an attempt to put the man at ease. "I suppose it must be the lab coat, hm? These things are quite remarkable at keeping a fair temperature, which is certainly a boon for research." He lifted his arm and glanced at it, observing the gentle sway of the coat sleeve's excess.

"They are, aren't they? Next time I'll need to remember to bring mine's." He gave a small chuckle, his tension beginning to slip away due to the lightened mood. "So, anyway, Director Marcus. Not to be in a rush, but you said you had a favor to ask, right?"

Marcus responded with a nod, thankful to be getting to the matter at hand. "Yes, I did." He began, leaning against the wall as he spoke. "It's about my research. I…could use some assistance." He sent a glance towards the man to gauge his reaction, taking note of his baffled stare. "Oh, it's nothing major, really." He promptly added as reassurance. "I merely could use someone to help with keeping my laboratory…tidy. The lab manager is on vacation, so I'm afraid my lab's hygiene has begun to show itself as an issue lately…"

He gave a small sigh before returning his gaze to the man. "I know it's rather late, but if you could perhaps help, at least a little… That would be a tremendous relief." A hopeful grin emerged in his gentle and aged expression—a face that any compassionate individual would be unable to deny.

Mathews was actually quite stunned, not expecting such a simple request from the director. But from what he knew of Marcus, he was definitely the type of man to take his work so seriously that he would forget about everything else. If the lab is starting to get dirty, well, he wouldn't be surprised. Besides, the director is pretty old, so it's probably getting harder for him to clean up, too…

After a few seconds of contemplation, Mathews nodded with a bright smile. "Well…I wouldn't want you to be stuck doing your work in a messy lab. If helping you out with that will let you do even greater things with your research…who am I to refuse?"

Marcus had to resist the urge to laugh at the irony of his words, but he was still unable to contain his rather ominous smile. Mathews will _definitely_ be helping him do greater things with his research, no doubt…

"You have my sincerest thanks…I'm very glad to hear that." He glanced at the man before gesturing towards the flight of steps. "My lab is upstairs, as you may recall. Please, follow me."

In the moment before Marcus began ascending the stairs, Mathews could have sworn that the director's expression was somehow…unnerving. It almost seemed as though he had some sort of foul intent, like the words he previously spoke were nothing more than hollow lies…

Mathews instantly shook his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his own absurdity. What on earth was he expecting—that Marcus going to try to murder him or something? As if! The man was almost in his sixties, and probably couldn't even kill a fly. He evidently was too tired to think clearly if he's reached the point where he expects a frail old man to be a murderer in disguise.

He suspected those rumors from the other employees and students must be getting to him, too. He knew he needed to stop listening to their crazy theories. Now they're merging with his tired state of mind and making him question the legitimacy of those tales when they're _obviously_ absurd.

Whatever. He didn't need a clear head to sweep a floor, so he just needed to get this favor over with so he can get some sleep…

He swiftly caught up to the older man, now trailing closely behind him as he reached the top of the stairs. Mathews idly observed his surroundings as they walked through the narrow hall. It's been quite a few years since he began working at the training facility, but he only ever visited the lab once. Now his vague memory of the building has become even more hazy, so it was much more akin to him seeing it for the first time.

Still, it was a relatively small building, so they arrived at their destination before he got the chance to heavily take in the scenery. Not that there was too much to see anyway, they only needed to pass through the narrow corridor lined with a couple of doors. He didn't know where those rooms led to, but probably just storage and whatnot.

"We've arrived." Marcus announced calmly as they stood in front of the large metal door, bringing the man out of his vacant pondering. He opened the door with one arm and gestured for Mathews to enter with his other. "Please, after you."

Mathews nodded, though not before showing some bewilderment at the director's gentlemanly behavior.

It was strange. He never personally knew the man well, so besides their initial introduction when he started working at the facility, he never spoke to him. He rarely even saw him through the halls of the school either, so he never had much of an opinion on him. But many of his fellow colleagues and even the students would often express negative feelings towards him, claiming that he's a rather peculiar and antisocial fellow, and some have even questioned what exactly he was doing with his experiments that he seemed so obsessed with. Several have even dared to say that he was experimenting on actual people!

Mathews never bought into those conspiracy theories, but he couldn't deny that Marcus was certainly not of the social sort. He also did seem extremely invested into his experiments, which was a little weird, sure, but it was still no reason to assume he's a maniac in disguise. Just from what he's witnessed on this brief visit, Mathews could even argue that Marcus was actually a nice guy, just a bit on the introverted side. He thought maybe he should tell some of the other workers at the facility about this when he gets back. It might open their eyes a little, at least. Plus maybe then he won't need to hear any more of their crazy theories of people being tortured in this lab, too…

Mathews finished his short reflection and took a few steps forward. Upon his entrance, he took the opportunity to observe the lab. The director said it needed a good cleaning, and he certainly wasn't wrong.

The room _was_ well-organized, with papers arranged into neat piles on the tables and shelves, along with the equipment being tidily placed in their proper locations. But with that said, the actual cleanliness of the room could use some work. A thin layer of dust was beginning to accumulate on most surfaces, and it looks like the director hasn't wiped a table in ages. The floor could also use a thorough mopping, as well.

Didn't Marcus say that the lab manager usually cleans around here? He hasn't been gone for that long…how did it become so filthy already?

"As you can see, it's a bit of a mess." Marcus remarked with a melancholic expression. "I don't wish to seem as if I'm in a rush, but there is a mop in the corner over there. Whenever you'd like to get started." He gave a quick smile before turning to one of his chemical shelves, fiddling with the various colorful flasks lining it.

"Oh, all right. Guess I'll get started now." Mathews strode over to the mop, grabbing it and dipping it in the nearby bucket of water. It seems like Marcus must have expected him to accept the request to clean up, unless maybe he would have just done it himself if Mathews had refused?

After wringing out the excess water, Mathews began gently mopping the floor. The room was almost silent other than the soft swishing of the mop, lulling him into a gentle serenity as he went about his task. Yet the stillness was soon broken, due to a voice from across the room.

"Yes, your help will be a tremendous boon to my research… I truly am grateful." His voice was low and distant because of the gap between them, but oddly enough, something about his tone seemed…off. His words were kind, but they didn't sound as thankful as he may have intended them to be…

He thought about the peculiarity for a few seconds, before wearily shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. "Not a problem, Director Marcus. Besides, I'm only cleaning. I don't think it'll be _that_ helpful, right?" He joked with a low chuckle, not removing his gaze from his objective.

"Oh no, on the contrary, in fact." The sudden close proximity of the voice caused Mathews to instantly spin around, his eyes meeting Marcus' for a brief second before feeling a sudden prick in his forearm. His eyes shot towards the sensation, dilating upon the sight of a needle piercing all the way through his skin and into the muscle. This was followed by Marcus gently pressing the plunger of the syringe and injected some sort of clear liquid into him.

Mathews took several shaky steps back, forcing the removal of the needle. However, the damage was already done, as the syringe laying in the older man's hand was now empty.

"W-what…are you insane?!" He exclaimed, backing himself into the corner of the room as he attempted to put some distance between him and the man. "What the hell was in that needle?!"

Marcus sighed, as if he found the question to be quite excruciating to answer. "Calm yourself, this was merely a sedative." He calmly walked to a nearby bin, dropping the used syringe in and removing his gloves. "Now, you're likely wondering why I would give you a sedative, of all things. But please, there's no need for concern… I will be giving you a dose of my T-Virus shortly, as well." He forced a faint smile, believing that to somehow reassure the man.

"Y-you…" Mathews mumbled, his back gradually sliding down the wall as the strain to keep his eyes open became almost unbearable. Whatever was in that syringe, it was obviously extremely potent. "Th-they were…right…" His breathing was heavy and ragged, though this was surely a result of his newfound anxiety rather than the anesthetic. "You…really are…a p-psychopath…" Those last words were all he could manage before his eyes shut tight, dragging him into a deep slumber.

"They?" Marcus questioned, pondering who the man could have been referring to. It didn't take long, however, to figure out that he must have meant the other employees and students.

So they believed him to be a psychopath even regardless of his prior actions? He has never done anything immoral nor unethical throughout his many years at the facility, or even through his entire life, really. Yet even still, they looked upon him with such abhorrence? He couldn't help but find the notion hilarious. It truly was the same as it always had been in his younger days—people detesting him for moronic reasons in spite of his absolute goodness. It's a shame he wasn't in much of a humorous mood at the moment, or else he'd surely have a good laugh at that.

Putting that aside, he soon scowled at the comment, shaking his head in disgust. "Foolish words, regardless. Merely used by the unintelligent so that they can attempt to inhibit those of actual intellect from furthering their own potential."

He sighed, directing his gaze elsewhere. "Psychopath… I'm far from it. I'm nothing more than a man with ambitions, ones that I will do anything to accomplish…" He murmured, crossing his arms while deep in thought. "…Is that truly so wrong..?" There was a surprising trace of sincerity to his question, yet he would not receive an answer from anyone but himself.

The constant tick of the clock was the only thing that could be heard as Marcus silently reflected on the words of the unconscious man. He knew that this was exactly how he would be perceived regardless. It doesn't matter how much of a success the experiment will be, those without hefty ambitions of their own will only ever be capable of viewing such actions as depraved. Still, knowing what they'll say and actually hearing it were two different things. It did weigh heavily on him, he had to admit.

The weight only grew heavier as the image of the man's unmoving body slumped in the corner became etched into his mind. Looking away did nothing to alleviate the burden—the sight would not leave him.

The man, in all senses of the word, looked dead. This was a result of the sedative, but could that have been a sign of how his experiment will turn out if he continues? He may simply die, nothing more. Marcus' hands would never be clean of the blood that would soon taint them.

The thought of quitting before it came to such a scenario did cross his mind. He may have been too rash in his rush to judgement, there could have been other options for him to take. Surely he didn't need to choose the path of a murderer in order to continue his research, right? There might still be a chance for him…

He ridded himself of the idea. He already knew that it was far too late to back out of this now. Not only would it be impossible to keep Mathews quiet about this incident upon his awakening, but this series of events was sealed the moment he made the call to the facility. No, even sooner…

His fate was sealed the moment he decided that he would surpass Spencer. The chance of him giving up on this goal was nonexistent. He's worked too hard throughout his life to just throw it all away. Squandering years upon years in this facility for absolutely nothing, while that man's status and power continues to rise endlessly. He refused to let his remaining time go to waste. He _would_ accomplish his goals, no matter the cost. This was a necessary evil, as they say.

Although, perhaps it wasn't so evil. After all, the employees had already branded him as some sort of crazy person long ago, even despite having no foundation for this belief. All of the times he'd pass them and they'd say hello, or they'd ask how he's doing—every single one of their attempts at making friendly conversation… They were always lying; spinning falsehoods to give them the facade of being caring and thoughtful individuals. Perhaps the words they spoke as he departed were not so pleasant, their true malice brought to light…

Mathews likely was no better. He clearly agreed with their feelings of resentment now, but most probably he has felt the same as them for a long time anyway.

Truly, this is why Marcus always despised the thought of trusting others. They disguise their disgust so well—they'd serve you venom with a smile, chatting along and laughing while you slowly inch closer to your demise. How could one even attempt to trust anyone with this knowledge in mind?

Really, it appears as though he should have experimented on humans long ago. He may as well prove their theories right, seeing as their opinions wouldn't waver regardless of his actions. He could have made much more progress on his research even sooner if he had abandoned his foolish conscious, but he clung onto it regardless. What a mistake that was—it certainly hasn't done him any good. He's always been vile to the eyes of the masses, so what difference does it make? If the world must continuously brand him as an evil and corrupt monster…so be it.

He'll bring their fears to reality this time.

The loud snap of him placing his nitrile gloves on echoed through the room. He walked to the shelf and grabbed a syringe containing translucent cerulean liquid. He held it in front of him, staring as if he were in a trance. After a few seconds, he gave it a gentle shake, watching the soft sway of the radiant fluid before returning his sharp gaze to the lifeless man.

"I will not falter any longer… I will accomplish what I have set out to do—that much is certain. Hesitancy…is for fools."

Each step he took carried the weight of bringing him even closer to his ultimate aspiration. The knowledge of this prevented him from wavering for even another moment. This was the next—and perhaps most crucial—phase of his research. He has no doubt that his work will advance because of it, so he has no intention of letting ridiculous human sentiments block his path to success.

Marcus knelt down beside the man and took hold of his forearm, plunging the needle directly into his vein. He watched as the liquid steadily flowed out of the syringe, taking its newfound place beneath the skin and within the bloodstream. Shortly, he will be able to determine if the virus is capable of assimilating with the DNA of a human, along with any effects this may impose on them.

But before that, he would need to decide what to do with him. He couldn't leave him sitting on the floor of his lab forever, so he would need to find a good place to keep him. Preferably, one that was private and would keep him from being discovered…

Marcus crossed his arms, leaning on the heavy steel table behind him. He idly looked around the lab as he pondered which room would be safest. He certainly couldn't risk returning him to the training facility, so it would need to be somewhere in the laboratory building…

Just then, his eyes landed on the small chamber in the corner of the lab. It was a tiny and box-like section, but it did contain a door that locked. It also possessed sizable and robust glass windows that would allow him a clear view of the man's progress, which was certainly another boon. Overall it would be perfect as a confinement room, although its purpose was, in actuality, a sterilization chamber. Still, he didn't exactly _need_ one of those, so a small change wouldn't disrupt anything. It's not like he got much use out of it over the years, anyhow.

He made his way over to the door and pressed a button on the nearby console to unlock it. He then dragged the unconscious Mathews into the room, which was no easy task, as the man was quite heavy. Marcus ignored the pain emerging in his lower back as he placed him against the corner, promptly making his exit afterwards.

Upon locking the door once more, his plan was officially set into motion. He will continue to observe the man's progress over the next few days, in which he already has many theories on how the application of the virus may unfold.

The best-case scenario would be if the virus is successfully able to assimilate with the man's genes, allowing the commencement of new mutations without the destruction of the tissue. Although he did have misgivings about the pragmatism of this particular theory, as the only other mammal he experimented on was unable to avoid damage to the tissue, due to the rapid growth of muscle. If this consequence is inevitable in the virus' current state, then how will the human specimen respond? The virus should be capable of preventing their death, presumably, but the pain they'd experience would no doubt be excruciating. Unless perhaps their brain cells are also damaged to the point of no longer possessing the functions to perceive pain?

The thought did make him wish that he conducted further testing on the Eliminators, as he could have had a better idea of the severity of the virus' erosion on the brain. The main point of his observation had been that they received an increase to their intelligence, but some mental functions did appear to be lost, such as their ability to think rationally. Other than being capable of following simple orders, they had no self-will other than their constant desire to sate their own hunger.

But would a human behave differently? With a naturally higher intelligence, it is possible that they may retain some sense of self. It would be an interesting outcome, although it did have the potential to complicate matters, depending on just how much of their disposition that they're able to maintain. He certainly wouldn't wish to create some sort of powerful superhuman that has just enough awareness to turn around and assault him. He pondered the odds of his creation having enough loyalty and respect for him to actually be appreciative of his deeds, as he _would_ be aiding their evolution heavily. But Mathews certainly didn't seem very considerate to him in his last moments, so Marcus didn't have his hopes up.

Regardless, there was no use speculating too much. Not at the moment, at least. He didn't have enough information to go off of, so these theories were just that—nothing more than theories.

Alas, he was a scientist through and through. The prospect of this experiment was incredibly exciting to him, enough so to make him forget all about the morality of the ordeal. The only things on his mind now were the constant theories racing back and forth, each one being contemplated for a mere few seconds before being tossed aside for the next one. With such a rapid and incoherent train of thought, it was no wonder he lost any discernible remorse over his actions.

And yet…

Had there been guilt that seeped beneath the surface?

* * *

_October 31st, 1977_

* * *

The days seemed to fly by as Marcus waited to observe the final outcome of his experiment. It has been nearly four days since he administered the T-Virus to Mathews. He'd like to say his observations have gone smoothly, but, well…that wasn't quite accurate.

Several hours after the administration of the virus, Mathews awoke. There were no visible discrepancies, but he undoubtedly had a shift in attitude. He initially had been so calm and respectful, which is why it was such a shock to see that he now has become a seething maniac! He spent the entirety of the first day doing nothing but hurling curses and insults at Marcus, along with violently banging on the glass and shouting.

Marcus understood where he was coming from, he truly did. It was undeniably a frightening and upsetting situation that he was forced into, after all. But he also found his behavior to be quite excessive, and frankly was extremely off-putting. Marcus even attempted to comfort him on several occasions, but this only infuriated Mathews even more. Therefore, Marcus had no choice but to do his best to ignore it. He was simply thankful he didn't have much work to do other than taking notes on this experiment, or else he surely would have been incapable of concentrating.

The second day was somewhat better, as Mathews primarily focused his efforts on insulting him, rather than yelling and banging once more. Many of the insults were rather vulgar and uncalled for, but Marcus was still gracious over the decrease in volume. It saved him from a few headaches, thankfully.

Marcus also figured that the loss of energy could be attributed to the man's hunger, as well. He did _want_ to give him food, but there was no way he'd be able to open the chamber's door without Mathews dashing out like a crazed lunatic. Thus, he didn't even bother. Besides, if Marcus can go days without eating for the sake of his research, then Mathews can too, right?

Towards the latter half of the second day, it appeared that the virus was finally starting to take effect. Mathews was heavily perspiring, and his face was glowing with a bright pink hue. He ceased his tirade of slurs at this point, and instead changed to a pleading approach. He seemed to be in tremendous pain, as he would beg Marcus to help him along with promises that he wouldn't tell anyone about everything that happened.

The alteration of his attitude did catch Marcus off-guard, but he couldn't bring himself to believe a word he said. How could he? No one in their right mind would just walk away and let this incident go! It was clearly a bluff so that he could be set free, without a doubt. Surely the man was capable of such lies anyway, due to how false his polite personality turned out to be. Marcus wouldn't make the mistake of trusting these backstabbing employees any longer.

Furthermore, the behavior was truthfully quite pathetic and stood as a stark contrast to the man's attitude just hours before. It would seem this phase of the virus' assimilation took all of the fighting spirit out of him. It was easier to tolerate than the constant aggression, but Marcus still had enough of a conscious to feel some sense of pity for the man. But unfortunately for Mathews, it wasn't enough.

On the third day, his condition grew even worse. He couldn't speak at all and could only force out pained moans. He would toss and turn frequently, but even that movement seemed to cause him further pain. The floor was coated in his sweat, and there were some spots of dried blood staining the floor from when he would have a particularly agonizing bout of choking. Upon closer inspection, the man's skin began to convert to a dim shade of grey, and it even appeared to be falling off in some locations. However, the latter may be reasonable due to the man's constant scratching, as he often broke skin.

Marcus began to have doubts over the direction that this experiment was going in. At this rate, Mathews will likely die long before the virus is able to integrate into his genes. This was an especially devastating possibility, as not only would it render all of his efforts to nothing more than a waste, but the fact that he witnessed such an atrocity…

He took no joy in seeing the man's current state, and nearly began to wish for the return of his irate but healthy outbursts. The suffering that Mathews was undergoing was appalling, so it did give even Marcus a small sense of queasiness. It didn't help that he needed to closely assess and analyze the strenuous transformation for his research, thus not allowing him to tear his gaze away for any longer than a mere moment.

That brings him to the current day, the 31st of October.

Marcus had an insufferably uneasy feeling, in part due to Mathews' sudden silence. He no longer made moans nor groans, and he didn't move an inch. He remained perfectly still, the only facet of him that remained was the anguished expression that he wore so often in his final moments.

Final… Yes, those moments very well may have been his last…

The man known as Kyle Mathews was now nothing more than a lifeless corpse. No doubt, he had perished several hours ago. The strength of the virus was too much for him to handle, the rapid mutations must have destroyed him from the inside out. It was truly a sorry way to go.

Marcus sat in his chair with a clear air of dejection. He had officially killed a man, all for the sake of his research. And where did it get him? Nowhere, evidently. If he must commit such a crime, then the least he would hope for is that it would be well-worth it. But this experiment provided him no advances in his work, nor did it even offer a hint of what was next for him. If even humans are not a suitable host for the T-Virus, then what was? It appeared that there was nothing he could possibly do to make use of this virus—no option remained but to give up on it.

He grimaced, always having been a man that hated to admit defeat. He despised the idea of abandoning his work without ever making anything useful of it, but what choice did he have? Suppose he's able to make some alterations to the structure of the virus, it likely will never be weak enough to allow for both a successful and advantageous adaptation. His work on this strain appeared to be heading straight for a dead-end…

This made him question how Spencer's work on the virus was going. He was most likely still using the Progenitor virus, as the chance of him deciding to experiment on leeches and also ending up discovering the T-Virus wasn't highly likely. Then again, perhaps he had discovered a different strain altogether. Perchance he discovered a magnificent strain that will allow him to forever cement his spot as the leader of Umbrella, and even as a chief scientist in the field of virology…

The thought was infuriating. He would _not_ allow Spencer to retain such a lead over him! He'll just resume his work on Progenitor, so that he can look into varied strains as well. And on top of that, he'll do more research into T, so that he can determine for absolute certain whether it has no potential or not. No effort will be spared in his work, he can't just give up and let Spencer have his way forever…

But it may not be too late yet. It's been quite a while since they last spoke, but Marcus doubted the odds of Spencer having made some amazing breakthrough already. If such a thing did occur, Marcus would never have heard the end of it. Spencer would be sure to rub it in with his stupid smug attitude every single day, so if he hasn't mentioned anything, then they _should_ still be on equal footing. Yes, there must be time for him to have his triumph!

"…Guhh…"

Marcus' gaze instantly snapped to the direction of the sterilization chamber, his icy eyes blinking in confusion at the sight. It was Mathews, and he was standing, but…there was something clearly wrong.

Mathews' jaw hung agape as if it were permanently forced to remain open, allowing the endless passage of intense groans and ragged breathing. His eyes that were formerly full of life had no spark remaining, they were nothing more than empty and soulless voids. His skin had turned to a pure grey hue and was visibly rotting, to the point where Marcus could no longer pin the torn skin on the man's incessant scratching.

But…this was impossible… Marcus was sure that Mathews was dead, he hadn't even been breathing! And besides that, the man hasn't even stood in days, due to how weak and fatigued he had become. Now, other than being a little wobbly, he was standing just fine…

"M-Mathews…" He stood and took several apprehensive steps towards the chamber, his posture stiff and cautious. "Are…are you all right?" The question was surely absurd considering the man's obviously ill state, but he was in too much shock to come up with a better remark at the moment.

There was no response, confirming Marcus' speculation that the man was unable to speak. The statement wasn't even acknowledged in the slightest either, so it seems to have fallen on deaf ears. He continued to slowly approach the chamber that housed the ailing man, concern obvious in his expression, when he suddenly stumbled back with a gasp.

"Grahh!" Mathews' arms made a sudden lunge for the glass and fiercely scratched at it. His desperation to create some sort of opening increased by the second, but he was wholly unaware of just how resilient the glass was. He began to press his face against the screen, drool rapidly pouring out of his mouth while he struggled to get a good enough grip to bite through the barrier.

Marcus' hand clutched his chest, feeling as his heart began to beat at a mile a minute. This particular variety of glass was sturdy and supposedly impossible to crack, but with how strong the bloodlust in his former employee now was, he would _not_ be taking any chances in getting closer…

One thing was clear. This…thing, was no longer Mathews. Marcus never was one to believe in those tales of demons and boogeymen, but there was no mistaking that this creature was in fact a monster. And based on his understanding of these fabled beings, it would appear that he has created a monster akin to what is commonly known as a zombie.

But…was this actually a zombie? Obviously, this transformation must have been a consequence of the T-Virus. But going by his previous findings, the virus is not capable of killing the specimen and then bringing them back to life.

No…Mathews never actually died, did he? He was only unconscious while the virus finalized its fusion, so he wasn't dead in the truest sense of the word, but…looking at the abomination in front of him, he certainly had the appearance of a reanimated corpse. Even if he's not the literal definition of a zombie, perhaps it would be easier to refer to him as such…

Still, no matter what it technically was, Marcus could only gulp as he watched the creature persist on its endless attempt to break free. He had many theories on what the outcome of the experiment would be, but creating a zombie wasn't remarkably high on the probability scale. This was…problematic, to say the least.

As far as he can tell, this zombie's only goal is to break through the glass so that he can eat. It has no motivations other than filling its stomach, so along with the loss of speech functions, a significant decrease in intelligence can be expected to have occurred. As for strength, well…it's difficult to determine the precise impact, but he has no intent of setting the creature free so that he can find out. If nothing else, it looks fairly sturdy, but there's no way to know for sure while it's active. Perhaps he can conduct further investigation upon its death…

…Now, it's not as if he _wants_ to kill it, especially after the hardships he went through just to create it. But it would undeniably make things easier, and the information he'll obtain from conducting a more thorough examination would make the task more than worthwhile.

And yet…how _can_ he kill it? He can't possibly risk opening the door, since he has no idea what sort of burst of energy the creature may gain in that scenario. He also has no actual weapons that would allow him to stand a chance, and he had to admit…he wasn't as young as he used to be. His reflexes weren't all that good to begin with, but they've definitely declined even further at his present age. Even if zombies are known for being slow, Marcus can't guarantee he'd be much faster…

Just then, he had a thought.

It would seem that his idea of placing Mathews into the sterilization chamber was even more ingenious than he expected. The chemical that is used for sterilization can be switched out to whatever he desires, so if he were to use a poisonous chemical, instead…

A smirk crept onto his lips as he gazed upon the gas canister of the power console. The use of poison would be perfect, as it would kill the zombie without causing any bodily harm. Unless, of course, the T-Virus is capable of making the host immune to toxins. So if that's the case, he'll need another plan, but that also makes this a good idea simply so he can test that particular theory, as well.

"Well, Mathews…" He began calmly as he walked towards his chemical shelf, indifferently examining each one. He spent a few seconds reading each label before he finally settled on one and returned to the chamber. "I have to admit, this wasn't quite the outcome I had in mind, but…" He poured the chemical into the empty canister before returning his cold stare to his ghastly employee. "There's no need to fret, your sacrifice will not be in vain. I intend to make use of every single note I've obtained from this experiment. So…" He sent a surprisingly benevolent smile towards the clueless creature. "Thank you. You've been a great help to me."

With that, he pressed the button just below the "POWER" label. A loud hissing noise was heard as a murky yellow vapor began to envelop the small room. Even as the room became wrapped in a veil of dense fog, the monster didn't seem to notice, as it instead resumed its yearning to break through the window and have a tasty meal. Yet, this desire was short-lived.

Within minutes, the zombie collapsed, but not without the miniscule size of the room taking its toll. The back of the zombie's skull first slammed into the wall and ruptured, splattering blood across the walls and floor, covering all in a deep crimson. On closer inspection, small bits of brain matter could be seen strewn throughout the bloody pool as well, an apparent announcement that the brain was unable to escape damage. Clearly, the zombie was not as sturdy as initially expected—or at least its head definitely wasn't.

If not for Marcus having such a strong stomach, he may have retched at the grotesque spectacle. He wasn't fond of gore, but he could handle witnessing it—an aptitude that he was currently thankful for.

He was instead more concerned with the fact that he'll need to clean that up, preferably before it starts to stain. He also would have appreciated if the body remained entirely intact for its examination, but he supposed it was fine. As long as he has access to the bloodstream and can locate the virus within it, there shouldn't be any issues. Besides, finding the blood should be even easier now that it's decorating the majority of the chamber…

The only other issue with this method of disposal is that in order to make sure the room is entirely clear of the poisonous air; he first must create an actual sterilization agent to use in the chamber. Not only would attempting to enter the room without one be a terrible idea, it would also be impossible. The door automatically locks if it detects any hazardous substances inside, so he won't be getting it open until it's clear.

He recalled that he had two chemicals in storage that he could combine in order to neutralize the toxins, so he made haste in leaving to obtain them. Marcus has a lot of work to do, so there was no time to squander.

This experiment may not have turned out perfectly, but he was quite serious when he said that he would make use of every note he's acquired as a result of it. Creating a zombie may not be the superior evolution of humankind he dreamt of in his youth, but with some work, it could bear some fruit as a B.O.W.. He was already eager to study the composition of the zombie so that he can determine ways to improve on the T-Virus. He was determined to make the best of the situation.

When he thought of how much progress he'll make on his research when all is said and done, he didn't feel as bad about Mathews' fate. After all, his death was far from being futile. The creation of these zombies is yet another step on his path to becoming an even more incredible scientist, and the knowledge gained on this journey would never go to waste. That's why he'll devote himself to his research even further. Once he's finished collecting the data from Mathews, he'll find even more test subjects. There's still so much to learn about the T-Virus, so every subject will provide _something_ new.

Consequently, even if people must die in order to accomplish this task…that's only fair, is it not? He's lived his life as a good man that always played by the rules, but now…the boundaries were lifted. He could experiment however he pleased, that much is true. But that was not to confuse the matter, naturally, he would _never_ abuse this power.

His work, even now, was still for the greater good. The knowledge to be gained from his actions was immense, and it would surely allow him to reach even greater heights of discoveries, someday. Perhaps sacrifices are necessary at the moment, but it will undeniably be worth it. And eventually, everyone will see this—won't they?

Though his words were meant as reassurance, he was unable to entirely rid himself of his own inner morality. Even now…no, especially now. A cold emptiness remained in his chest, a void where his compassion should have remained. He knew that this behavior was wrong, yet this understanding was useless as he also knew that he was too far gone to give in now. The blood of Kyle Mathews was already on his hands, so in order to give justification to this sacrifice, he would simply need to utilize this death to the best of his ability. It was _for_ Mathews' sake, in a twisted sense.

Yet a fierce turmoil waged inside of him. One might refer to it as the struggle between light and darkness, good and evil. Marcus always felt the analogy was rather narrow-minded, life was never as black and white as the saying implies. But even still, he couldn't deny that it did have some resemblances to his current situation.

He's spent the last few days in a constant back-and-forth battle over how he should proceed with his research, wanting to do whatever possible to make a breakthrough, while also being incredibly reluctant to take such drastic measures. Yes, he _has_ accepted his decision, and there was certainly no going back on it now. But it wasn't as if this choice was made with ease, nor does he feel no penitence over it. He does not wish to change the way things have unfolded either, as he has accepted his course of action in its entirety. Nevertheless, he did feel it was a poignant twist of fate that his life would end up like this.

In the past, he'd never have let his principles fade in such a way, all for the sake of his work. He wondered if this was possibly because back then, he had friends to guide him along. He was able to find happiness by spending time with them, so his existence had a purpose beyond his research. He had something to give him joy beyond his quest for knowledge, so he didn't need to dedicate every fiber of his being to it. But now…

His friends…how would they feel if they knew the path he has begun to tread upon?

Ashford was always such a cordial man. He was serious about his work, but he never would have fallen into this state. A state where the only thing of value is your research, where you must do anything necessary to advance in it, no matter how cruel… Would Ashford have been spared from this dilemma because of where his priorities lingered? His ultimate goal had been to preserve and strengthen his family line, not to simply make discoveries or increase his intelligence. Science was always secondary to this objective.

It was somehow amusing… Marcus often criticized this aspect of Ashford, as he felt that he would be unable to become a truly remarkable scientist if he didn't make the subject his number one priority. But…had Ashford been right all along? If Marcus occupied his life with varied affairs, would things have changed? Conceivably…if he had a family as well, things may have turned out differently…

Then there was Bailey, his kindhearted student. He's the reason Marcus is even capable of continuing his viral research, due to him remaining in Africa so that he can send samples of Progenitor to Marcus whenever needed. And while Marcus discussed some of his findings on past experiments with him, he has made no mention of his desire to advance his work by experimenting on humans.

Bailey always looked up to him, he respected him. How would he feel if he knew of what Marcus has done, and what he will continue to do? If Bailey were to resent him for it, and his admiration began to fade…though it would unquestionably bring him great grief, that may be for the best. Marcus wasn't so sure if he deserved such a dedicated student at this point, anyhow. But even with that being said, he couldn't bring himself to discuss this incident with Bailey. Not now, at least. He wasn't yet prepared for the anguish he may receive from that conversation…

And Spencer, Marcus' first actual friend… Their relationship had always been based around their competitive spirits, as they were rivals before anything else. This allowed them to push each other towards greater heights of achievements, resulting in a mutually beneficial relationship. Even now, Marcus continues to feel the intensity of this rivalry, but…something is different.

Was their friendship—if it could even be called that anymore—actually benefitting either of them? Marcus' desire to compete against and surpass Spencer is the leading cause of this set of circumstances, he wouldn't have felt such a strong temptation if not for it. Of course, this wasn't to blame Spencer, Marcus took full responsibility for his own actions.

However, he did question if Spencer was in a similar position at the moment. Was he also considering an act of depravity in order to advance his research, and by extension—to surpass Marcus? Or, maybe he already committed heinous acts for this very purpose. Marcus hoped that this wasn't the case. He did have his doubts about Spencer in the past—especially in regard to Ashford's death—but deep down, he always clung onto the hope that Spencer was still guiltless. He earnestly didn't want to see the hands of his former friend tainted by this same sin. If Marcus were to forsake his formerly noble ambitions, then his only consolation would be if Spencer were to remain true to his own.

Ultimately, Marcus didn't doubt that the changing of the times and the loss of his former allies may have heavily contributed to this turn of events. But regardless of the circumstances that led up to this, the only thing of importance is the action that he'll continue to take. And regrettably, he already was well-aware of what choice he has made. It was decided long ago, and there was no amount of crestfallen reflection that could change it. He has dug his grave, and he fully intends to lie in it.

Would these feelings of remorse remain with him forever, or will he discard them in favor of absolute devotion to his research? It seems that only time will tell if the glimmer of light will remain in Marcus' eyes, or if they will become as callous and unfeeling as his soulless test subject…


	6. The Pursuit of Knowledge

_November 6__th__, 1977_

* * *

Upon the conclusion of his experiment on Mathews' last week, Marcus began to focus all of his efforts on studying the data so that he can determine any potential desirable changes to the base virus, Progenitor. There were many things he could do to alter it, as well as many things he should do.

So far, he has compiled a list of modifications he'd like to pursue, prioritizing the ones that would make the zombie most suitable as a B.O.W.. Ultimately, these weapons are to be created for the sake of the government—or more specifically, the military—so anything that can make them more viable for combat is a boon.

First, it would be extremely advantageous for the mutation time to be sped up. In ordinary circumstances, he would have wished for the opposite so that the transformation will be gradual enough to avoid causing the host rapid and severe bodily harm. But in this case, he's come to the conclusion that there isn't much detriment to be had by damaging a zombie. It may look a little more repulsive, but perhaps even that could be an advantage. You can never go wrong with instilling fear into your enemies, so would that not provide them with an even greater edge in battle?

Beyond that, a speedier transformation would also be a necessity for emergency situations where the army desperately needs B.O.W.s to fight for them. They certainly won't be capable of waiting four days for the transformation to finalize, as Marcus had done with Mathews. Therefore, this modification to the virus was of great significance.

Second, he would prefer if the zombie could become a bit more durable overall. A weapon is only good for as long as it has not been broken, which the zombie has demonstrated may not be very lengthy at all. Not only did the poisonous gas have a severe effect on the monster, but its head had essentially exploded from a meagre collision against the wall. If the poison hadn't killed it, then the crash most certainly did.

And as much of a relief that the zombie's weakness to poison had been for him, since it gave him the chance to easily dispose of it, it was still just that—a weakness. If the virus could be modified into granting an immunity to most poisons, that would be highly effective. This should be feasible even without much effort. Although, he did feel that making the zombie's body more durable, especially its head, might be a tad on the difficult side…

Theoretically, it shouldn't be impossible for the virus to strengthen the creature's bones and even the muscles, to some extent. He merely has doubts that the cranium could ever be reinforced enough to prevent any level of breakage. If that cannot be strengthened, then the destruction of the brain would be nearly inevitable. Undoubtedly, the zombie would never be capable of surviving that sort of devastation, so there was really only so much he could do in this regard.

These two issues have been his main source of concern, so there wasn't much else that he could ask for at the moment. Naturally, he'll want the zombie's final state to be the greatest that it can possibly be, so he'll work to implement additional adjustments if he thinks of any along the way. But until then, he was content with these endeavors.

Nevertheless, despite his extensive outline of what he has in mind for the alteration of the virus, he won't be acting on any of these ideas just yet. He has only tested the effects of the virus on one person, so he has no idea if the effects will vary in each individual. Just because Mathews reacted one way doesn't mean everyone will, so it'd be in his best interest to do a few more experiments with the virus in its current state. Which, naturally, he already has prepared to conduct his next test.

This time, he decided that he'll attempt a slightly different method of infection. He hasn't forgotten about the traces of the T-Virus that reside in the slime that his leeches secrete, so why not give that a try? He'll simply have the test subject touch a leech, where he will then observe their reaction over time. This would be a good way to determine if the leeches are highly contagious or not, as well as to see if the virus will behave any differently within the subject due to the varied approach to infection.

But who exactly would be the "lucky" person to help him find the answers to his questions? As part of his meticulous planning process, that decision has already been made. This time, he has chosen an employee of the facility named Dennis Midge.

Midge has been an employee at the facility for several years, and he was another one that served as a lab assistant for a brief period of time. Marcus came to the belief that these employees would be the easiest to use for his experiments, as he would essentially be asking them to resume their prior responsibilities. So while Midge's service may have been in the rather distant past, Marcus expected that he should have no problems enlisting the aid of the man once more.

He did very briefly inspect his file as well, and it seemed to be good enough. The man had no significant health conditions, but Marcus was beginning to have doubts on if such a case would have serious effects on the experiment regardless. If the end result is to be a hideous, rotten visage of death no matter what he does, then health does seem rather irrelevant. Due to this theory, Marcus didn't have much reason to examine his file more thoroughly.

Despite that, he did take a look at the family situation. Midge didn't appear to be particularly close to any of his relatives, although they were apparently still alive.

Living at this incredibly isolated facility undeniably puts a strain on one's ability to maintain close relationships—as Marcus himself knows all too well—so it was no surprise that a lot of the employees seemed to be in this same position, lacking any profound relationships with family and friends. In fact, a majority of the employees were not married, and thus also did not have children.

This too was to be expected. The hours at the Umbrella Executive Training Facility were rather strict, made evident by the fact that the employees were required to be present so often that they needed to actually live there. They're only able to go home on their vacation days—which admittedly have become a bit more generous in recent years due to Umbrella's rise in status and funding—but it's still not enough to maintain close familiar ties. And since many of the employees have resided at the facility ever since its opening, it could be expected that they didn't have much time to find a spouse throughout the years.

It may be for the best. After all, a marriage where one of the parents is _never_ home except for a few days a year did appear to be quite uncanny, and seemingly unfair to their partner as well. But perhaps there are some who could work it out. They could always write letters or make phone calls from the facility if nothing else. Regardless, it surely didn't sound like the most romantic relationship, but who was Marcus to judge? He was _far_ from being an expert on the subject, anyhow.

That aside, Midge should be a fine candidate for his next experiment. And truthfully, his idea to test the contagion level of the leeches couldn't have come at a better time.

The lab manager came back from his vacation a few days ago, so Marcus would need to be extra cautious with his research. It will no doubt be more difficult to conceal the true nature of his work with Savage lingering around, so he doesn't feel too keen on injecting someone with the virus and then keeping them locked up in the room for days. If they cause as much of a commotion as Mathews did, Savage no doubt would learn of it. If that were to happen, Marcus' career may as well be over.

To remedy this situation, Marcus did advise—or perhaps more so warn—Savage that it would be in his best interest to avoid his primary lab room at all costs. He naturally couldn't go into precise details, so he merely said that he's working with a highly contagious virus as part of his studies, in which he wouldn't want to risk Savage's safety. It was a perfect excuse, as the man believed him without a shadow of a doubt. Besides, it's not as if it was technically a lie, anyhow. It _was_ in Savage's best interest, so long as he wishes to not become a zombie.

With that taken care of, Marcus hoped that he could trust in Savage's compliance. But with the danger of the worst-case scenario looming about, he was unable to rid himself entirely of his hesitation.

Could he _truly_ expect Savage to obey his demand? Time and time again has shown humans to be nothing but a deceitful sort, always eager to betray their ally the moment it suits their fancy. And thanks to the incident with Mathews, he was now well-assured that all of the facility's occupants—be it student or staff member—appeared to harbor a disdain for him.

To make matters worse, they already have believed him to be some sort of "psychopath" for who knows how long. With such fervent—albeit flawed—feelings against him, how could he ever bring himself to trust a single one of them? Surely they would prefer to remain in their little gossip circles, chattering about all of the horrid things he must be doing behind the scenes. None would ever dare to grasp the truth of his work, the true motives behind his actions. They'd much rather be kept inside their bubble, believing whatever it is that their shallow little hearts' desire…

…But, perhaps even that is for the best.

Yes…it's only natural that all of them must be kept at a distance, far away from his research. Even if he did like Savage to an extent, there's no reason to expect him to be any different from the rest. It's perfectly within reason that Marcus can no longer bring himself to place much faith in the man. So of course, he will need to take additional measures in order to keep his work confidential…

This is why the leech method of contagion would be an ideal way for him to continue his research without the peril of being discovered. He won't need to lock Midge in the lab for as long as Midge is _unaware_ that he's been infected. He can go back to his dorm as if nothing ever happened, a temporary return to his ordinary life.

However, Marcus will almost certainly need to bring him back—or find somewhere else altogether—once the transformation begins to finalize, but he should be free of concerns for a few days.

Now, having finalized every element of his plan, Marcus made the call to the school building. It didn't take long for Midge to be put on the phone, just as Marcus wasted no time in explaining his request.

For this objective, Marcus' task was rather simple. He merely asked if Midge would be able to stop by the lab and take a few things back to Marcus' office in the school—quite straightforward. And to be expected, the employee took no issue with the request and promised to come by in a short while.

Finished with that step of his plan, Marcus didn't have much left to do for his preparations. All that he would need to do now is to set the bait…

Tucking his paperwork into a neat pile, he promptly rose from his chair. His eyes trailed the cluttered desk for a brief moment before suddenly landing on a pair of white rubber gloves, causing him to give a subdued "ah-hah" before nabbing them. As he placed them on, he turned his attention to the desk that sat directly adjacent to the sterilization chamber.

On that desk sat a large glass jar, filled about two-thirds of the way with translucent water that nearly sparkled from its surprising level of cleanliness. There was a modest current to the fluid as a result of the large creature eagerly swimming around, its vibrant green hues on full-display as it whirled about. This critter was, of course, the leech he had once administered the Progenitor virus to.

By his observations, the leech has grown modestly in size since then, and it remains in high spirits. It truthfully didn't behave much unlike its unaltered brethren. It appeared almost…playful, and enthusiastic, even. And as of now, no signs of physical aggression have been observed. He suspected this was likely to change if he places it with other creatures, however. Even if it was returned to the other leeches, this likely will remain as the case.

This was only a theory, but it did hold some merit. Seeing as this leech was currently in the process of evolution, growing even stronger than ever before, it was reasonable to assume that it may attempt to attack the unchanged leeches. It was the law of the jungle, only the strongest were capable of survival. So presumably, the stronger leech may see it fit to defeat—or more accurately, devour—the others and proclaim its superiority.

The Progenitor virus itself is based on this ideology, allowing only the strongest to successfully acclimate with the virus. The weak ones would be weeded out and met with nothing but their immediate demise. It would be appropriate for the hosts of the virus to behave in the same fashion, would it not?

Well, regardless. There was no need to worry about it, since he had no plans of placing it back with its brethren. Once he has more leeches that are infected, he may consider combining their homes. It's not as likely for the leeches to fight if they share the same infection, so it may be safer in that situation.

Still, it was a happy leech by all appearances. And to his initial surprise, Marcus has found that it was actually quite enjoyable to idly observe the creature from time to time. The way it so enthusiastically swam around, with not a care in the world... Why, even with such a hazardous virus residing within its body, the leech paid it no mind! Clearly, leeches possessed a greater physical—and perhaps even mental—fortitude than Mathews did, and most likely the same can be said in regard to future test subjects as well. Honestly, it was almost admirable. The strength the little creature possessed was truly astonishing…

"Now then," he began, leaning down to get a better look at the critter swaying back and forth. "How would you like to help me with today's experiment, hm?"

The leech suddenly stopped in its tracks; its eyes directed towards the man. But of course, the image through its weak vision was a mere hazy distortion of the visage standing before it. Even still, it paid close attention to the blurred image…that is, until it turned away and resumed its swimming exercise. It didn't seem to be _too_ interested.

Marcus gave a low chuckle in response, shaking his head in amusement. "Well…I suppose I could take that as a yes." It was debatable on whether or not he actually had the leech's consent, but he began turning the metal lid anyway. Eventually it was opened, resulting in the sound of a loud pop.

The leech in its curiosity looked towards the sound, only to be frightened by the sight of an indistinct silver object descending upon it. It sprang into action in an attempt to make a quick getaway, but it was swiftly caught, imprisoned by the clutches of an unknown entity.

"My word, you're getting a bit too big for these forceps, aren't you?" He questioned as he held the tool in the air, staring at the squirming little creature caught between it with concern. "I may need to find a new pair soon, I suppose… That is, unless you plan to go on a diet soon instead?" He laughed softly at his joke, but the leech didn't seem to find it very amusing. It protested by initiating an even fiercer struggle to escape, resulting in Marcus exhaling loudly in disappointment.

He genuinely was considering that he might need to put the leech on a diet. Growth from the virus aside, it did appear as if it were becoming rather overweight lately…

"Well…no matter." He muttered to himself along with a weary half-shrug. "Regardless of what size you may be, I trust that you'll have no issues with accomplishing this task." He spoke almost reassuringly to the creature before forming a gentle smile.

He parted his lips to speak once more, but quickly sealed them with a furrow of his brows. Marcus _was _going to explain what the leech's objective actually was, but…it did occur to him that it may have been a bit _too_ strange. He was already well aware of his predisposition to speak to his subjects, even though the majority were organisms that were incapable of understanding. But…actually giving an entire explanation to one of them was…well, pointless. Even _he_ wasn't _that_ bad…

"Yes, erm…you'll do just fine, anyhow." He spat the words with a hint of embarrassment before walking through the room with the leech in tow. However, upon reaching his destination in front of the chemical shelf, his expression became enveloped in concern. His gaze directed at the wriggling creature turned anxious before eventually resulting in a jaded sigh.

"Hm…I certainly do hope this plan actually works. I'd hate for it to be all for naught…"

It's correct that he did have some apprehension over it, and rightfully so. The plan was, in truth, a bit of a gamble. He was heavily basing it on what he believes to be the nature of the leech, so if his theory on the actions it will take is wrong…the entire plan will fall apart. Marcus was never very fond of taking risks, especially when there isn't enough data to back up his hypothesis. But it was certainly too late to change course now—Midge will be arriving at any moment.

He placed two fingers from his free hand on his temple, closing his eyes as he began to think.

_This is not the time nor the place for skepticism… Everything I've observed about the leech in recent times has shown me that it possesses a very inquisitive and exploratory temperament. There's no reason that it won't follow the objective…_

Suddenly, a muffled ping was heard from downstairs, putting an instant end to his train of thought. No doubt, it was from the elevator announcing Midge's arrival.

"It would seem I'm out of time…" He muttered to himself, shooting a cautious glance towards the door for a brief second before averting his gaze. "All right then, little leech..." He held the forceps higher to get a better look at the creature. "It's time for the next, and perhaps most important step of my plan. I do hope you will do your best to fulfill your part."

The leech ceased its wriggling for the first time since it's been picked up, having sensed a change in movement from the man. It was soon taken by surprise when it began a swift descent, dropping the remaining few inches to the floor with a light plop.

It couldn't understand why this happened, but it didn't really care either. All it knew was that finally, it had freedom! It wasted no time in beginning its trek around the new territory, leaving a faint trail of slime as it crept about.

Marcus had placed the creature below the chemical shelf where it would enjoy roaming around the shadows. And since he planned all of this beforehand, he actually swept up under there too! Now the leech won't need to crawl around in dirt and dust. This was a strangely thoughtful sentiment, one that even he was surprised by. It was particularly astounding when considering the fact that convincing him to clean was more difficult than convincing him to get a good night's rest, which was quite the rarity in itself.

Alas, it couldn't be helped. He viewed cleaning as nothing more than an insignificant improvement in aesthetics—something that he had no time for whatsoever when there was so much work to be done. However, considering the leech was a vital player in his mission, he figured it made sense to make an exception…just this once.

Certainly, the leech was quite vital indeed…which is precisely why he did retain a sliver of concern that the plan would instantly backfire if the leech chose to crawl on him instead. Though that may be a preventable outcome for as long as he keeps a close eye on it. The most it would be capable of doing is climbing the top of his loafers by the time he realizes, in which he can instantly shake it off anyhow.

Besides that, it actually seemed like the creature was avoiding him. It was possible that it was simply having too much fun crawling around to pay him any mind, unless…was it mad at him? He _was_ holding it for a while…

"Hey, Director Marcus! Are you up here?" A boisterous voice resounded from the hallway as footsteps began to grow closer.

His instinctual reaction to the sudden noise was for his eyes to dart to the door in anticipation of who would be entering, but he quickly closed them and gave a heavyhearted sigh. The man clearly was not even at the door. He must have only ascended the flight of steps…

"Yes, I'm in here…" Marcus spoke in a volume that was only just above average, a range that surely would not be heard by the other man. He didn't care, though, for he severely detested the idea of yelling throughout the building. Labs were meant to be calm and quiet places to concentrate, not a rowdy bar full of shouting and commotion! They can leave such behaviors at the school building, if they must.

Times like these really made him glad he chose to get rid of all the lab assistants. Who knows how little peace he could afford with those buffoons lingering around…

He shook his head in dismay before deciding to open the hefty steel door himself, resulting in a brash creak that nearly matched the volume of Midge. More than likely, the man would end up entering all of the other rooms that he had no business in if left unintended. So, for Marcus to declare his presence was a necessity here.

He had just been turning the corner, giving a small gasp when he saw Marcus standing there. "Oh…hey, Director." Midge's lips curled into an awkward grin as he waved. "Uh, good to see you."

There was hardly anything worth noting in the man's appearance. He was a tall and lanky fellow, with his hazel hair shaved on the sides while the front was gelled to stick up. His eyes were dull and colored with a dim shade of blue. His expression, even despite his failed attempt at a smile, was tinted with a trace of condescension—a telling sign of what could be expected from his personality. Somehow, it hasn't even been a minute, yet Marcus already wasn't looking forward to this conversation…

As for the man's attire, likewise, it was nothing special. Seeing as it was still work hours, it was to be expected that he was wearing a standard formal outfit. It was composed of a simple white dress shirt with a blue striped tie, although the jacket of the suit had been removed. Along with that he wore navy blue slacks with black loafers.

"Yes, yes, same to you." Marcus responded to the man's empty greeting with a sharp reply that was both rushed and hollow. This undoubtedly would come across as rude, but honestly, Marcus was well past the point of caring.

He had thought about this for such a long while, though it has dogged his mind endlessly in recent times. Or, more specifically, ever since the Mathews incident last week.

What exactly was the point of feigning courtesy with these people? Why should he even care about how he might come across as? For so long he's done his best to maintain a good image, only for these morons to ignore it in support of one that was far worse than positive. They were so set in their view of him that they never would take the time to consider the truth of the situation, would they? No, of course not…

In some ways, this was the greatest tragedy of all. Marcus has never been fond of people, and trust had never come easily to him. Yet in absolute spite of this, he did his best to give people a chance—to see them in a positive light, and to believe in their potential. He overcame his instinctual distrustful outlook in order to be a better person…yet the rest of society was unable to do the same.

Was this change in attitude a waste of time as well as effort? Perhaps not. One could say that this evolution had its merits, as it did allow him the opportunity to gain some close friends. He did enjoy their company, and he ended up growing far more attached to them than he had ever expected to. Looking back now, he could rightfully say that the time spent with them provided him some of the happiest years of his life. And yet…

…Where were those friends now?

He was alone now, left to rot in utter isolation in this desolate prison of a school. All that remained were the useless husks that they call students and staff, valueless pawns that somehow believe themselves to be superior to one such as him. It was laughable, truly…

Marcus has said it many times during the course of his life, despite it being a feeling that he tried to repress in favor of being considered a good, wholesome individual. But…the one thing that has remained constant throughout these many years…is that he was better off alone. His research would thrive in solitude, his mental state would thrive in solitude. There was no good to be found in associating with the foolish masses—none at all! He understood this then, and he most _certainly_ understood it now.

There was only _one_ thing that he needed from these people, one _vital_ thing…

…Research, of course.

Now, this wasn't to say he was going to run around experimenting on everyone in the facility with a sort of sadistic glee. As much as he has come to despise those idiots with their disparaging attitudes, he didn't actually think that they deserved to die. Still, it went without saying that he needed the research, and if they _already _believed that he was performing cruel tests in secrecy…

Well, it's not as if this was something they didn't already suspect, then. He was merely fulfilling their prophecy, was he not? There was nothing wrong with proving them right…

Despite these thoughts of sheer bitterness, there was one thought that he could not utterly suppress…

Marcus genuinely didn't want to kill anyone. He pushed it to the back of his mind in order to keep such sentiments from interfering with his ambition, but his guilt over Mathews' death has yet to fade. He was only human after all, so to knowingly bring an end to someone's life was not something easily done. Even if he is aware of their disdain for him, he could never be the direct cause of someone's death without any remorse…could he?

This was not a subject that he enjoyed devoting any thought to, so he tended to avoid the issue altogether.

However, unbeknownst to him, that very action may have been his next error. One can only maintain their integrity for as long as that voice in the back of their mind continuously tells them that they're making a mistake. If that voice is suppressed, forced into complete silence…what will remain of their morality?

He may not have been the one to pose the question, but nonetheless…it was one that he would soon find the answer to.

A tense silence took control of the room, compelling both men to not dare to break it.

Marcus watched vacantly, internally questioning why the other man suddenly became so quiet. He certainly wasn't keeping his voice down while he was yelling through the halls, so why start now? And going by his demeanor—a look of pure apprehension—it was quite clear that Midge had no intention of being the first to speak up. Marcus resisted the urge to sigh as he decided to put an end to the pointless staring contest.

"Well, come in, then." He sent the man one last glance before turning and entering his lab, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.

"Uh…right." Midge mumbled to himself as he watched the door close with a click. He'd like to say he was surprised by the director's dismissive behavior, but…he wasn't.

It was no secret that the director was anti-social to the max, and everyone knew the only thing he cared about was his research. What was he researching, anyway? Something to do with…slugs, maybe? The other employees had mentioned it before, but he didn't really care enough to remember. It's not like it had anything to do with him, anyway. Why _would_ he remember?

Like many of his coworkers—and even the students, amusingly enough—Midge couldn't say he was a fan of the guy. It seemed like he only bothered with the employees if he needed something from them, which was still a pretty rare occasion. He clearly wanted nothing to do with them ninety-nine percent of the time, so it must be an emergency if he actually wants their help. But even if they didn't like him, it's not like any of them were in a position to deny his requests. He _was_ still the director, even if he didn't act like it.

Regardless, it'd be nice if he were a little friendlier, but oh well. The sooner Midge gets this over with, the sooner he can go back to his own business…

Midge put these feelings aside as he opened the door and entered the room. He began to observe his surroundings, seeing as he was in unfamiliar territory. The room was fairly large, but extremely dim. His eyes began to strain as he struggled to focus on…well, anything. He turned to the man behind him, a frown present in his expression.

"Uh…it's awfully dark in here, you know." His voice was low, almost as if he were trying to avoid agitating the man. "It's probably not good for your eyes like this… Ever thought of getting another lamp in here, maybe?" There was a clear attempt made for his question to sound sincere, but a hint of sarcasm was thrown in there as well.

Marcus had no interest in small talk, and the question was rather dumb at that. Dim or not, there was more than enough light for him to see what he needed to. He really didn't want to humor the comment with a response, but unfortunately, idle chit-chat may be necessary here. He needed to waste enough time for the leech to find its way to Midge…

"No. That's not a matter of much significance for me." Marcus admitted aloofly while his eyes trailed over to the surface beneath the shelf. He immediately spotted his little helper beginning to emerge from the shadows. He cracked a small smirk at the sight before suppressing it, looking back towards the employee blankly. "My eyesight is quite well, actually. I'm certain it's better than most people my age, and perhaps even younger."

"Huh, is that so? Well, more power to you, then." He gave a forced smile before crossing his arms, continuing his idle observation of the room for a brief moment. Besides the general clutter of the room, there wasn't really much else of interest. Because of this, he soon concluded that he had seen enough, so he decided to just move on and get back to business.

"Anyway, what was it that you said you wanted me for? To take something back to the school, was it?"

"Yes, that's right…" Marcus muttered, his gaze returning to the leech's location. A quick glance was enough to see that it had deserted the location of the shelf, now making its way over to the door—where it was not supposed to go.

Before dread could set in, Marcus turned to the man and gestured to the table in front of him. On it sat a medium-sized box, filled quite high with books and paperwork. "I apologize in advance for the weight… You only need to deliver it to my office, however."

"It's fine. Nothing I can't handle, I'm sure." The man said with a nonchalant shrug as he walked towards the box. He could see it was quite full, but he didn't want to pry over the contents for too long, especially with the director right there watching him. He decided to just pick it up, only to immediately be taken back by the heft. The director wasn't kidding! Did he pack a boulder in there...?

He adjusted to get a better grip on the sides before turning around. "Well, it's definitely heavier than expected, but it shouldn't be a problem." Seeing as his hands were full, he could only tilt his head to substitute as a wave. "Guess I'll get going now. See you around."

A bead of sweat formed on Marcus' temple as he furrowed his brows, his eyes frantically scouring the room. The man was about to leave, but…where was the leech?! In such a short period of time, Marcus somehow managed to lose sight of it. He was going to dwell on how his old age must be getting to him, but he obviously didn't have time for it. He needed to just settle down and think things through, and quickly…

After regaining his composure, he began to think rationally. The plan may not be jeopardized just yet. The door wasn't open, and there was no way for the leech to squeeze underneath, so it couldn't have left. It was still in the room, undoubtedly. The only problem is…where? He didn't exactly have the luxury of looking around, especially with the man fast-approaching the door. He needed to think of something!

"I…ah… Wait, just a moment!"

Midge stopped in his tracks, turning towards the director with an irritated glare. "What? What is it?"

He gave a sheepish grin, shaking his head. "My apologies, I simply forgot. There was one other thing I wanted to put in there as well. Please, could you stay there for a minute?"

Midge didn't look all that happy about it, but he just gave a nod and a faint grumble of affirmation.

Marcus thanked him before walking towards his desk in the back of the room, immediately beginning his search of the table. In order to make it seem less obvious that he had lied, occasionally quiet murmurs could be heard, typically of him questioning where he put the item in question. Although, he wasn't actually sure of what he could give the man. There really wasn't anything he wanted to take back…

This was actually a somewhat genuine investigation, only he wasn't trying to find the item's location as much as he was trying to determine its existence…

"Wh-what the… The hell?"

Not even a minute through his rummaging, Marcus' absentminded search was interrupted by the man's agitated comment behind him. As he turned, he saw Midge kicking his leg out with a small green blob flying off of him and onto the floor a few feet away.

"I thought I felt something on me, but what the hell is that?!" He took a few steps closer to get a better look, only for the sight to cause him a great deal of disgust. Despite the creature's immediate attempt to crawl to safety, Midge's sickened state instinctually caused him to raise his foot high, preparing a forceful stomp.

"N-no!" Marcus stumbled forward a couple steps as he held his arm out, that same panicked feeling returning to his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the worst.

Before he could finish the maneuver, Midge noticed the director's frantic reaction. He lowered his foot, but not without first giving an irritated scoff.

"Okay, you mind telling me what exactly that…_thing_ is? Along with why it was on the floor and attempting to climb up my leg?" At his own reminder of that, he set the heavy box down onto the floor beside him and lifted his pants leg up a bit. His eyes widened at the presence of a thick, clear trail of slime just around his ankle. His apprehensive gaze immediately was sent towards Marcus, staring up at him with a look of both revulsion and dread. "And _this_?!"

Marcus honestly was unsure of what to say in this moment, and his heartrate was only beginning to subside after nearly having a heart attack at the potential loss of his subject.

Having had a very brief moment to think, he technically could have made more T-virus-infected leeches if this one had been lost. But…that was an awfully inhumane way to kill it, wasn't it? It's also not nice to go in other people's labs and attempt to kill their test subjects, anyhow…

Still, Midge wasn't going to just get up and leave as if nothing happened now, so he needed to say _something_. After collecting his bearings and taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"Ah, you see…" He made a gesture to the creature on the floor before looking back to Midge. "That is what I am currently researching. It's a leech, but it's also a bit of a troublemaker." He gave a sheepish laugh, shaking his head in a scolding manner. "It must have escaped from its containment while I wasn't looking. I had looked everywhere for it, too, so I was beginning to think it must have escaped the entire building."

With him having settled down, it was easy for Marcus to backtrack to his plan and explain the story he had planned ahead of time. He honestly didn't like the idea of lying—it was a devious man's way out. But in this moment, well…a devious man wasn't too far from what he was.

Midge listened to the explanation, but it didn't do much to alleviate his fears. He stood up straight, dusting off his clothes by force of habit before placing his hands on his hips. His expression appeared to have a clear sense of agitation, perhaps to mask his inner dread. "I've _never_ seen a leech that size before… But…" He removed a hand from his side and placed it on his chin, his eyes directed towards the strange creature slithering around. "I do remember now, the other employees mentioned you were researching those. But they're not…not _dangerous_, right?"

Now that Marcus thought of it, he did mention his leeches to an employee or two at one point. He obviously didn't mention anything involving the virus, but it seemed logical to tell _someone_ about it. If his work wasn't left as a total mystery, then people may be less likely to speculate and come up with crazy theories about him. It seemed like a good idea, but knowing what he knows now…apparently, it didn't seem to help him much.

Nevertheless, regardless of whether it helped him or not, word clearly got around. Midge wasn't the employee he mentioned it to, but even he knew about it. Most likely, the entire school knew by now, as well. It wasn't necessarily a secret, he supposed, as long as they don't know what exactly his research entails. But it still went to show how unreliable humans are, always blabbing about everything they hear to everyone else, for no reason whatsoever…

"Perhaps you have never seen this breed of leeches before? They do grow quite large, especially if fed well. But do not worry. I can assure you that they're quite safe, no more hazardous than a typical leech." His tone was calm and reassuring, quite capable of fooling just about anyone. For someone that was typically honest and preferred to speak the truth, he was remarkably good at being deceitful…

"Oh, all right then…" He mumbled to himself, his nerves finally starting to settle down. He figured he may have been overreacting, but that was definitely an unusual-looking leech. He still did have some more concerns, but he decided there was no use worrying about it. He'll just need to take the director's word for it…which ordinarily wasn't something he would want to do, but he sounded pretty convincing about this. Plus, the leech didn't even bite him. He _should_ be fine, right?

Now that this situation was resolved, Midge grabbed the box and said his goodbyes, finally leaving to deliver the items to the school building. He just couldn't wait to get back to his dorm. It was still early afternoon, but he suddenly felt like he could use a _long_ nap…

It was in that moment that Marcus realized Midge left without the item he was supposed to give him, but it was of no issue to him. He really didn't have anything in particular to give, so if anything he'd need to have given an old textbook, or something of the like.

Besides that, Marcus now felt a tremendous relief. With Midge's exit, a huge weight was whisked away from his shoulders. He was one step closer to the completion of his plan, thanks to the employee having made contact with the leech. Now, if his theory on the composition of the creature's secretion is correct, Midge _should_ be infected. The transformation therefore should begin within a few hours, in which it will likely be finalized by the 10th of the month.

It goes without saying that Marcus will need to find a suitable place for Midge before that happens—that is, unless he wants the entire school to be eaten by a zombified Midge. That was a terrible idea for _several_ reasons, however, so he may need to pass on that strategy…

Although he was fairly confident in how the T-virus will behave, he did feel it would be vital for him to keep an eye on the man in case of any discrepancies. But this notion was easier said than done, due to Marcus' own reputation. A friendlier, more involved director could easily check up on the students and employees frequently, as he would be well-known for caring about how each of them are doing.

Marcus, on the other hand…wasn't that type of director. He was much too reclusive, so for him to suddenly show an interest—to an employee that is soon to become severely ill, no less. It will no doubt paint a target on his involvement, which must be avoided at all costs. Nonetheless, he was a man that _always_ came prepared, so he knew exactly what must be done.

The training facility was packed full of security cameras, including ones placed in the dorm rooms. And while these lovely inventions have been around for quite a while, it wasn't until recent times that they were capable of actually recording video. Before this point, one would only be able to monitor the footage live. Perhaps for Marcus' intents and purposes, that _could_ work. But it would definitely pose a few more undesirable challenges, so he was actually ecstatic at this new feature of the cameras.

For once in his life, he was _happy_ about an upgraded form of technology! He soon after made haste in replacing all of the old cameras with these new ones, so now each one could record video through the use of VHS tapes.

Although, these cameras weren't a _complete_ miracle worker. There was still the problem of Marcus needing to actually remove the tape from them in-person, which again plays into the dilemma of him lacking the reason to do such a thing. _But_…there was someone that could do it _for_ him.

He did have negative feelings towards nearly all of the inhabitants of the school—nearly being the keyword. Of course, he hasn't forgotten about _those_ two…

Wesker and Birkin, the only students that were worth anything in that wretched school of rejects. One of them could just grab the tape for him at the end of each day, allowing him the ability to monitor Midge's progress with ease. He was quite fond of those two and since he got the impression that they liked him as well, he had no doubt that they'd comply.

There was the possibility that they might question his motives, and it stood to reason that he most likely shouldn't tell them the entire truth. He did have high hopes for them, yet he also knew that he must cover his tracks extremely well. He would hate to put his trust in them so blindly, only to end up with a knife in his back…

Then again, they were only students, and teenagers at that. It sounded ludicrous to even entertain the idea of them having some sort of allegiance to someone that would result in them betraying his trust. How could they have been co-opted by anyone while they're still so young? It was utterly preposterous, wholly unthinkable, and yet…was it possible?

With this thought in mind, he decided to simply err on the side of caution and tell them that Midge's conduct around the lab was suspicious, so he needed to keep watch of him. If they complete this task without raising any red flags about their own behavior, then that could establish that they possess a trustworthy nature. They would be helping him out while also allowing him to determine if he can depend on them.

Despite the fact that he has come to prefer his independence, having a few allies may prove useful in situations like these. He could make the exception, he supposed.

Alas, only time will tell what will come of this leap of faith—in which he can only hope his trust will not be misplaced…

* * *

_November 11__th__, 1977_

* * *

The passage of time appeared to flow rapidly for one as busy as Marcus. Five days have gone since his meeting with Midge, and they were certainly with their fair share of events. It's been quite hectic around the facility—at least for Marcus.

He had chosen Wesker to help with his objective. It was really only a one-person job, and seeing as Wesker was the eldest of the two, it made the most sense to ask him.

Even beyond that, another reason he didn't ask Birkin was…he was too short. The cameras were placed high into the corners of the room, so even standing on a chair, he wasn't sure if the student could reach. Maybe once he finally gets that growth spurt, Marcus will be able to have him help with these sorts of things too. Until then, Wesker was the only real choice.

And as he expected, Wesker had no problems with helping him out with the task. Each night he brought the tape from Midge's dorm to Marcus, along with replacing the camera's newly empty compartment with a new one. This worked out anyway because the tapes did need to be replaced often, due to their limited capacity for recording. Marcus assumed that one of the employees were supposed to do this job themselves, but according to Wesker, they very rarely follow this directive.

In normal circumstances he would complain about the employee's incompetence, but for this particular occasion, he was surprisingly thankful for the negligence.

That aside, of course the young student did ask about why Marcus intended to go to these lengths, which he easily explained away by disclosing his concerns over Midge's _suspicious_ behavior. Thankfully, Wesker seemed to buy it and didn't bother to ask any further questions. Aiding his scientific endeavors with relatively no questions asked… Truly, this was a fantastic sign for a potentially wonderful alliance!

It may have been too soon to judge, but he had a great feeling about this partnership.

With the tapes delivered to him without him needing to lift a finger, he was able to set up an old television and VCR he had in storage, placing both of them in his lab.

Although, this stage of the plan did come with _some_ problems. Between the two machines, there were an awful lot of wires and buttons. It was extremely tiresome figuring out where each cord went, along with which buttons he needed to press. At times, he even considered calling in Savage to help. But it was nothing a rigorous examination of the instruction manual couldn't fix, so he eventually solved the dilemma all by himself. So with the tapes in place, he was able to observe Midge's shifting behavior over time.

He noted that the man began to develop mild symptoms shortly after he first left the lab, primarily being that he displayed a heavy exhaustion and required an excessive amount of sleep. Beyond his fatigue, he showed no further symptoms on this day.

On the 7th, his behavior became more perceptible, as he appeared to gain a fever and began scratching almost relentlessly. His roommates could easily see that something was wrong, but most ignored him, aside from one other employee.

Upon checking his files, Marcus learned that this particular staff member was Warren Keith. Nothing on the man's file stood out, really… He was simply in his late twenties and has only worked at the facility for a few years, usually performing general maintenance and cleanup. He has been roommates with Midge ever since his arrival, though, so Marcus speculated that they may have been friends.

Keith checked the man's forehead, in which he confirmed that it appeared to be a fever. He then questioned Midge on if he did anything that could have given him this sickness, which resulted in the ailing employee saying that he wasn't entirely sure. He went further and clarified that the only thing he did recently was going to Marcus' lab. He didn't think the lab itself could have possibly caused his illness, but he did briefly mention that one of Marcus' leeches had crawled on him. This was less of him accusing the leech and more of him just recounting his day as well as he could, however.

Keith evidently thought this story was strange, as he mentioned that it did seem peculiar to get sick just from stopping by the lab. Of course, he had no idea of what Marcus was actually studying, so he questioned if there could be some type of weird chemicals in the air, or something like that.

He then redirected his attention to go on a tangent about the leeches. He complained that Marcus had an incredibly bizarre attachment to those leeches—or perhaps it was more so love. Whatever the case, it gave him the creeps.

He finished up his rant by wishing Midge well, promising for them to take a trip to the facility's bar once he feels better.

Suffice to say, Marcus was infuriated by the employee's remarks. What _bizarre attachment_ did he have for the leeches? He barely even mentioned them to anyone, never mind giving off the impression that he _loved_ them! Maybe he does like them much more than he likes any of the people at the facility, but can anyone blame him? They're not exactly setting a high standard here!

Again, these employees are nothing without their petty gossip and snide quips about him. It made his blood boil, but he did his best to calm himself. His purpose in watching the tapes was to observe Midge's transformation, not to worry about the mindless chatter of morons.

Besides… If Keith is so worried about Marcus' weird interest in his leeches, then perhaps he'll be the next one to get a firsthand view of them!

Jokes aside, Midge's transformation was clearly progressing rapidly. Marcus knew that he wouldn't be able to leave him in the dorm room for long, even though some employees did almost _deserve_ to become zombie food…

Finding the perfect location for the man would be tricky, but after some thought, Marcus was able to decide on a place.

There was an empty room in the facility's cellar, just beside one of the dorm rooms. Although, the only actual connection between the two rooms is a sealed vent. The door to the dorm could not even be reached from this side of the basement, so the only way to access this particular room was through a small and typically vacant office.

He did fear that the close proximity to the dorm could pose a threat in the case of zombie groans potentially traveling through the vent and into the ears of resting inhabitants, but he wasn't too concerned. After all, it's not as if he'll be leaving the zombie in there forever. He'll only leave them as long as it takes for him to collect the data, and then afterwards he can just find some way to dispose of them. Until then, the door will be securely locked for only his access. The plan was not without risks, but he felt it was plausible regardless.

Therefore, Marcus set the room up as a zombie containment chamber of sorts. But it truly wasn't as special as the name suggests, especially since he didn't have much time to plan anything more elaborate. It was only an empty room with chains attached to the walls, suitable for keeping the zombies restrained. The room didn't even contain any lights, which only served to add to the gloomy atmosphere.

After he was finished and took the time to get a good look at it, it left a sort of bad taste in his mouth. A dreary, dirty room with nothing but chains and shackles laying on the cold, hard ground… It honestly looked somehow…primitive, and it would be rather dehumanizing to anyone forced to remain in there.

It _was_ just that, _dehumanizing_. But it was fine. It wasn't as if he was going to leave a bunch of fully functioning _humans_ in there—it was only for the zombies! Of course, he'll need to put Midge in there even before he completes the transformation, but…well…no matter.

It's not as if Marcus was in a very morally righteous position at the moment, anyhow. No use worrying about it at this point…

On the 8th, Midge's condition quickly worsened. Not only was his scratching becoming incessant and fierce enough to break skin, he also ended up collapsing in the evening. These symptoms were not unlike Mathews in his final moments, so Marcus was sure that Midge would reawaken as a zombie. The thought was highly anxiety-inducing, as there was no reasonable way for him to deal with the situation in that case.

Though it pains him to say it… He was not capable of storming in, fighting off a zombie, and then dragging the monster into its prison. Midge would only end up having a feast out of everyone in the facility before long—Marcus included.

Thankfully, the crisis was averted. Midge was only unconscious for a few hours before he ended up waking in the middle of the night. Marcus didn't realize this until he actually arrived at the facility, however, noticing Midge was already on his way out of the room. This came as quite the shock, so Marcus was fortunate to have caught him before he could go anywhere.

Midge looked, perhaps fittingly, like a dead man walking. His eyes were lifeless and droopy, not even reminiscent of the arrogance they once portrayed. And even graver was his skin, covered in countless cuts and already shifting to a shade of deathly grey. There was so obviously something wrong with him, it was a wonder that none of the employees actually bothered to take him to the treatment room…

The man, through strained breaths, had explained that he was in so much pain that he had decided to go to the aforementioned room himself. It was a struggle for him to even walk, but he thought he'd be able to make the trek. Even if there were no employees there to help him at this time of night, he hoped there might be some type of medicine he can take. Just…anything to make the pain go away.

Marcus put on a sympathetic face and agreed to assist him, while of course keeping a safe distance and taking precautions to avoid coming into physical contact. His assistance…wasn't all that helpful, but who could blame him? No one in their right mind would willingly touch someone so evidently sick, not when there was such a strong risk of contagion. At least he gave him moral support…

In spite of his rather useless aid, Marcus couldn't help feeling saddened while he observed the man's anguish. This feeling became especially prevalent as he led him away from the direction of the treatment room and towards the newly formed isolation chamber. He could only put aside his sentiments for as long as the suffering wasn't standing right in front of him, he supposed.

Perhaps even more tragic is that Midge was so disoriented that he hadn't even realized he was being led astray. By the time he was locked into the confinement room with chains restraining him to the ground, he still was unable to comprehend what had happened. He was never able to understand, either, as he soon drifted off into what would be his final rest.

Then came the 9th. Midge slept for hours, but pained groans and moans were frequently heard in his sleep. Marcus feared that some of the staff would hear, but there was really nothing he could do about that. He only needed to endure this unease for as long as it took for Midge to transform. Then, he'll gather his data and move on from this incident…

At least, that's what he thought. An unexpected situation had arisen, one that would provide him with even more to deal with…

The official reason for Midge's disappearance was that Marcus noticed his poor health while running an errand at the facility, so he arranged for Midge's immediate evacuation. He was to be taken to a hospital straightaway through the use of the Ecliptic Express, so he was supposedly already gone. Marcus thought this excuse sounded fairly credible, but he couldn't trust that the rest of the school would agree.

The rational decision here would be to continue monitoring the footage from the facility—even if it's only from the dorm room—so that he can determine how the story was received. But to his surprise, the talk of the town was not about Midge's disappearance, but rather, of Keith's condition!

Apparently, now this employee has come down with the same fatigued and fever-like ailments that plagued Midge. Everyone assumed that he caught the illness from him, but all he would do is deny it and mumble incoherently. The only phrases that could be made out during one of these outbursts was that seeing Midge scratch so much made him start doing it too, and that he's staying far away from those leeches. Seemingly, no one knew what he was talking about.

There was almost a cruel irony to the situation. Keith had been the one to complain of Marcus' research and his supposed obsession with leeches, and now he was claiming that he would stay away from them. But obviously, he has become infected without even coming close to them! It would seem a severe dose of karma has come into play…

If Marcus had to guess, he would assume that this was a result of Keith checking for Midge's fever the other day. He thought nothing of it at the time, but it was the only moment he noticed the two come into close contact.

It was fascinating… Midge was only in the early stages of the virus' assimilation, but he had already been contagious, merely by touch! The T-virus was certainly potent, there was no doubt about that. Marcus also felt a great relief that he made sure to keep such a distance from Midge yesterday. If he had been any more reckless, then he could have been the next one in that room. But instead, it would be Keith!

Now, it's not as if he's _happy_ about Keith's fate, but…he couldn't think of a much better choice for his next test subject. His research must continue, in any case…

Keith was still in fine enough health to remain in the dorm, so Marcus figured he wouldn't need to take action yet. There was a chance that the man could end up spreading the virus throughout the school, but the others quickly became weary of him and kept their distance. Considering what had happened to Midge, this was the natural reaction. So, chances were that Keith wouldn't have much of an opportunity to infect anyone.

Marcus was able to rest easy until the 10th, the date that Keith's health would heavily deteriorate. Security footage revealed that he began to act with a peculiar temperament. He was barely able to form proper sentences anymore, along with the continuation of his constant scratching and decline in physical health.

The last thing he had done before his eventual collapse was writing into some sort of journal, though his hand constantly shook which surely resulted in awful handwriting. Marcus was unsure of what he wrote, but the man ended up placing the book into his luggage afterwards. Whatever the case, it was likely of no real concern.

With that, he ended up passing out in his bed. And while Midge had proven Marcus wrong by waking up after his first black out, he had a strong feeling that Keith would not awaken from this one. Well…not as a normal human, that is.

Marcus waited until everyone was asleep, the same as last time, for him to take Keith to the isolation chamber. Although, this time posed a much greater challenge since Keith would not be awake and willingly following him. Marcus put on his most protective clothes—including thick and durable gloves—and prepared to drag the man all the way to the chamber.

He felt foolish for doing such a demeaning thing, but he supposed he really didn't have a choice. He couldn't just ask one of the other staff members to do it for him…

Still, he wasn't as young as he used to be, and his destination was rather far from the dorm room. It was a struggle for everyone involved, truly. If nothing else, this trial may have given him all the exercise he would need for a year…

Somehow, Marcus was able to accomplish the task, so the unconscious Keith was now restrained in the chamber along with Midge—the latter of which had now fully become a zombie and looked to be quite famished. The zombified Midge attempted to lunge for Marcus several times, but eventually gave up due to the chains fiercely yanking him back at each try. Although, that didn't stop his attempts to reach for Keith's motionless body, but Marcus made sure to keep them on separate sides of the room.

Shortly, Keith would awaken and begin his own efforts to sate his ravenous hunger. Marcus didn't care to stay and watch, and it had already been awfully late. He ended up returning to his lab to get some much-needed rest.

Onto the current date, the 11th of November. Marcus returned to the room in the early morning, even before many of the staff and students had woken up. He spent quite a while studying the appearances and movements of the zombified employees, taking a great many notes in the process. It was a bit disconcerting doing so as they struggled with their unending series of lunges and ferocious growls, but he dealt with it, while of course maintaining a safe distance.

Eventually, he found that there was nothing left to report, so his objective had been accomplished. He needed to prepare for their proper disposal, but how should he go about it?

After he dealt with Mathews, he made a morgue out of one of the storage rooms in the lab. It was originally the room he used for containment of his animal subjects, but he didn't have any use for those anymore. Figuring that there would be more subjects like Mathews in the future, he felt it was a good idea to turn the room into something a bit more suitable for his needs. And of course, the door would be heavily secured with Savage forbidden from entering.

It made the most sense for him to make use of that room once again, so Midge he was certain to leave there. Keith, on the other hand…he was unsure about.

Keith's infection is an interesting one, having been a result of merely coming into contact with Midge rather than the virus itself. If possible, it would be beneficial to study his composition more efficiently—without the threat of being brutalized at hand. Not only that, but after obtaining his current data, Marcus decided it was the appropriate time to make some adjustments to the base virus. So with Keith being among the first few subjects, he couldbe kept as a specimen for further research, along with being a point of comparison for his future subjects.

It would be risky, but since Marcus _did_ already ban Savage from entering his lab, it _might_ be safe to keep him in there. He thus came to the conclusion that he would preserve Keith's body within a cryogenic chamber. He might have one or two of those in storage, hopefully…

Though his plan was decided, something didn't sit right with him. As he stood in the center of the room, watching the crazed monsters and their ceaseless yet futile pursuit…Marcus could only sigh. He knew fully well about what he was getting into beforehand, but seeing the fruits of his research so up-close and personal… It truly did seem as though nothing good could come from continuing to make more of these abominations.

Even beyond that, his mind wandered towards thoughts of the underhanded and deceitful things he needed to do in order to actually pursue this research… He's managed so far, but he was sure it would begin to take its toll, sooner or later. How long could he continue to act so cunningly, slipping by without detection? Surely, it would catch up to him eventually…

And yet…despite every aspect of this situation begging him to stop now, to quit while he's still ahead…he would not.

He _wanted_ to do this research, he _needed_ to do this research.

He needed to create the ideal B.O.W., one that would allow him to become the greatest and most renowned scientist within Umbrella. If he cannot cement his place within the company through this work, then he will lose his place altogether. So even if his work is cruel, or if his methods are obscene…what choice did he have?

The sorrow, the guilt… They were only something that he would need to get used to. Someday, he knew these feelings would fade.

Once, he would have feared such an outcome, recognizing that it would be the final confirmation of him becoming a fallen man. But now…he longs for the day, instilled with the understanding that the remainder of his morals will be the only thing stopping him from fulfilling his work to the fullest extent. If he must lose them, then let it be quickly.

Perhaps it was a fool's outlook, but he'd sooner accept the loss of his principles than of the career he's spent his life to obtain.

He could lose his career because he gave up on this research, or he could lose it because he continued his work and got caught. Or, the ending he strove to achieve…he could finish this work and finally surpass Spencer, allowing him the power and authority to pursue any research that his heart desires.

The path was steeped in peril at every corner, but if that small light of hope remained at the end of it…he would continue on with an unshakable resolve. His course has been set, and it won't be changing any time soon.

In the end, he was nothing without his aspirations—the only guiding light left within his hollow life. If he loses them, then he loses everything…

No matter what obstacles he must overcome, no matter how many lives he must trample upon…he will continue to cling onto his ambition with every fiber of his being. It was just the sort of man he was.

Some may call him selfish; others may call him a monster. In reality, he knew that he couldn't deny the truth of those allegations. However, there was one thing that in recent times, he has begun to feel with perfect clarity. A belief from his youth, now resurfaced…

To care about the obsolete opinions of people that he knows are below him is nothing more than foolish. He will do as he likes, without the trivial thoughts of the masses interfering.

It was the only thing he could do now…


	7. The Fruits of His Research

_November 15__th__, 1977_

* * *

Not many days have gone by since his last experiment, but Marcus dedicated the entirety of his energy and effort into tying up all loose ends so that he could move on to the next step of his plan. Naturally, this meant that he made quick work regarding the disposal of his latest test subjects, Midge and Keith.

Dennis Midge—the employee that had the terrible luck of being Marcus' choice for the experiment. His fate was sealed due to him having been tricked into coming into contact with a leech. After all was said and done, the putrefied man was placed into a body bag and stuffed into one of the lockers within the morgue. And considering how much of a rush Marcus had been in, it wasn't out of the question to assume that the man was thrown into both the bag and locker rather sloppily.

But it didn't matter, he figured. No one but Marcus had access to the morgue, so it's not as if anyone else would ever see it.

Besides, even if they _did_ somehow find their way into the heavily sealed room, would they _really_ be so worried about the tidiness of Midge's disposal? One would think it'd make much more sense to be concerned over why Marcus had a morgue at all, rather than the particular approach to disposal within it.

And then there was Warren Keith—a rather inept employee that got himself infected by his self-caused ill fortune. Perhaps no one ever taught him to stay away from people that are so obviously sick, since he clearly didn't know enough to keep his distance from Midge in his ailing state. It was a likely theory, as it was also evident that no one ever taught him proper manners either—such as to not badmouth your boss that you knew absolutely nothing about…

It wasn't hard to see that Marcus had especially negative feelings towards Keith, seeing as the man did have an awful lot to say about him and his work. Likewise, there wasn't much disappointment to be found in Keith's accidental exposure to the virus. He obtained even more vital research data, as well as one less moronic employee insulting him baselessly. Sure, the punishment may not have precisely fit the crime, but…life was rarely fair. That was a lesson Keith had no choice but to learn.

As for the man's disposal, he was not subjected to the morgue treatment like the previous test subjects. Due to Marcus' desire to make changes to the virus' structure following that affair, he decided it was best to preserve a specimen within cryogenic fluid.

This would allow him to observe any changes between a subject with the original copy of the virus and one with the newly altered variation. Keith would thus serve as the embodiment of the original strain of the T-virus.

It was quite an important role, truly. He almost felt that it was too significant for a man like Keith to be in charge of it, but alas. That was how the die had been cast, so perhaps this could be seen as the man's redemption. He was finally going to make himself useful for once in his mediocre life!

Certainly, everything had gone rather smoothly since those experiments. After getting rid of those two, Marcus was able to begin his work on altering the origin virus. But—that was where the problem arose.

He couldn't deny that in recent times, he had been plagued with an uncanny feeling. Or, _feeling_ may have been too strong of a word.

In truth, it wasn't a feeling as much as it was a mere sense. And frankly, he sometimes felt it may have been an irrational sense, nothing more than a ludicrous trick of his mind. For the longest time, that reasoning did make much more sense.

He had no _true_ reason to believe that he was being watched, and that his experiments had been discovered and scrutinized…until now.

At first glance, nothing appeared to be out of order within the room. The furnishings of his lab hadn't moved even an inch. Each table was in its proper place, and every chemical remained in the same position on the shelf. The cryogenic chamber that housed Keith wasn't even disturbed, which almost undoubtedly would not be the case if someone _had_ been in the lab. Why, it'd be much more likely that the police would already be banging down his door, in that case!

But the fact remained—something was amiss within his lab. And it was only natural that someone with observational skills as astute as Marcus' would recognize such a dilemma right away.

As soon as he stepped foot within the room, his eyes shot towards the issue as if a siren had been resounding in its place.

Hardly illuminated by the pale glow of the desk lamp, the dim outline of a sheet of paper could be seen laying on the cold floor. Just barely concealed by the heavy steel table above it; half of the page had been veiled by stark shadows. Although the distance between he and the paper had been vast, he was already well-aware of what that page must have entailed.

To be expected, his suspicions were proven true the moment that he walked towards the object of his concern, having knelt down and clutched the page between his fingertips.

This page in particular had outlined the overall results and analysis of his experiment on Dennis Midge. Of course, this meant that it detailed the circumstances that led to Midge's infection as well as the symptoms exhibited throughout the process. The end of the page thus described how Midge's disposal was handled.

It went without saying that the page was chock-full of vital information…so why had it been carelessly laying beneath a table? It was a fair question, albeit one that he may have already had the answer to.

"…Someone seems to suspect something about my experiments…" His low whisper broke the hollow stillness of the room while his cautious gaze shifted into one of disgust. He stared at the paper as if it were a piece of garbage, rather than an important part of his research. But, given the circumstances, his revulsion did appear to be well-warranted.

Granted, he had been known to be somewhat untidy with his files in the past…and in the present. Even now, the tops of his tables had hardly been visible due to the piles of papers scattered about.

With that being the case, the most obvious assumption would have been that this page was initially a part of that pile, where it must have fallen off from a gust of wind. His lab did get somewhat breezy during this time of year, so it may have stood to reason…except for the fact that he _knew_ this page was _never_ a part of that pile.

He may have been many things, but he was _not_ a moron. What kind of an idiot would he have been to have left such a crucial and scandalous document laying within a mass of junk?

Those papers were wholly unrelated to his current research. Many of them had been articles on viruses, but certainly not Progenitor nor the T-virus. Besides them, there had been several papers discussing the biology of various species of animals. He did read those to give him some ideas during the animal experimentation portion of his research, but they weren't anything tremendously significant. As in, they were not directly related to his work in any substantial sense.

Therefore, why on earth would his own research have been compiled with them? Perhaps some of his older and more irrelevant work could have been treated so negligently. But ever since the beginning of his work with Progenitor and T, he made sure to keep all files related to those securely tucked away within his file cabinet. Needless to say, that cabinet was locked at all times.

That had been another problem in itself. If he kept his research in his secured file cabinet at all times, how did it escape from its containment? It certainly didn't grow legs and slip out on its own, so the only possibility would be if someone had swiped the key without his awareness.

Though he was ashamed to say, he didn't keep the key on him at all times. He usually kept it hidden under one of the chemicals on his shelf, which _seemed_ like an excellent hiding spot, but…

In truth—it was entirely conceivable for someone to have crept in, found the key, and then used it to rummage through his files while he was away. Unlikely, perhaps, but conceivable nonetheless.

The culprit then, after finishing up their snooping, may have forgotten to put that page away with the rest. It's probable that it may have fallen, where it could have been swept under the table by the breeze. The perpetrator was likely in a rush to wrap up their infringement of his privacy, especially knowing that their time was severely limited.

It was common knowledge that he rarely ever left the laboratory building, and most were even aware that he slept in the lab itself, as well. Therefore, they must have somehow learned of a time when he would be in a separate room, and then very scrupulously planned their infiltration to be carried out in a way that would avoid detection.

With how swiftly this plot must have been accomplished, it's not unreasonable to assume that it may have been the work of a team of individuals. Surely that would have given them the edge on finding the key and taking care of business so quickly…

"…But, perhaps it's just my imagination."

In spite of his solemn train of thought, a humorous chuckle escaped his lips. It was surely contradictory to his previous contemplations, but he couldn't help it. The entire situation was nearly beginning to sound like the setup of a detective novel, wasn't it? And while his investigative skills were rather impressive, if he did say so himself—all of it did seem a bit…excessive.

Was it possible that his theory was flawless and he completely cracked the case? Certainly.

Just as well, it was possible that he may have been sounding the alarm much too soon. The largest inconsistency to this notion was that it was incredibly unlikely for someone to have discovered his experiments without already reporting him to Umbrella's headquarters, if not the police. Again, he hadn't been aware of any officers breaking down the door and holding him at gunpoint, so he may have been safe for the time being.

He supposed it was only natural for paranoia to begin pervading his mind, especially now. He may have done everything in his power to keep his work undetected, but it was undeniable that the weight of his experiments had been a heavy burden to bear. And the truth was…the further his work advanced, the greater that burden would become.

After all, he had already ended the lives of three individuals. That number would only continue to grow as time goes on…

There weren't many that could do something so callous while remaining entirely unperturbed, were there? Aside from serial killers and psychopaths, perhaps, but he hadn't been one of those in any way, shape, or form.

Unlike those sorts, Marcus had taken no pleasure from the cruelty involved in his experiments. The only joy he found through them was the delight of knowing his research would advance to the next stage. Nothing more, and nothing less…

…Nevertheless, the fact of the matter was that he would continue to commit such crimes in the name of his research. As the number of experiments grew, so too would the chance of those experiments' discovery. Each life lost by his hands would only serve to raise the stakes even higher.

How high would this mountain of bodies climb, he wondered? As of now, he had no way of knowing. He was only capable of looking ahead, doing his best to protect the secrecy of his experiments as he trekked onwards towards his destination.

He only needed to continue with this fearful game of constantly looking over his shoulders for a little while longer. As long as it would take to finalize his work on the T-virus…

Now, knowing just how risky his work had become, it was in his best interest to remain vigilant. Even if he _was_ merely imagining things when it came to today's incident, it was quite likely that he wasn't off the hook just yet.

If no one had discovered his work now, they might—no, they _will _discover it, soon enough. He couldn't hide it forever, that much was clear. One way or another, someone would become suspicious of him. The only question worth asking was _when_ it would happen…

But…even that was not a true cause for concern, was it? If someone _did_ happen upon his research, then the solution was obvious…

"Well, if anyone _does_ get too close, they may find themselves unexpectantly _assisting_ in my research!"

The ominous words were accompanied by a low chuckle. Then with a dismissive shake of his head, he decided it was time to move on from this particular situation. As soon as he grabbed his research paper—the very same page that had caused this whole debacle to begin with—he unlocked the cabinet and placed it in its proper location.

Truly, there was no use spending so much of his precious time fearing the possibility of a disaster. That time would be put to much better use if he instead spent it on planning his next experiment, as well as the alterations he still wished to apply to the origin virus. He was a busy man, so any moment spent on frivolous concerns was of no value to him.

Although, if he was being honest…he _was_ in need of his next test subject. If someone did happen to discover his experiments, that certainly would save him some time on choosing the subject himself, as well as the time needed to come up with a plan for the procedure.

It may have been more justified to experiment on someone in that circumstance, anyhow, seeing as they'd be nothing more than a rat unable to mind their own business. Surely a person of that caliber would not be missed…

It was an audacious, or perhaps more so cruel, sentiment from the man. He may have had less than fond opinions of the facility's inhabitants for the longest time, but even just a few months ago, such a remark would be completely out of the question. Regardless of how he felt about them, it was not his place to gauge the worth of someone else's life. There was a time where he understood this well, but now…

It was a clear indication that while he may not have been cut from the same cloth of someone who enjoyed committing murder, even he was not immune to the deterioration of one's mind that came with such an act. Just as each experiment provided a greater risk of discovery, each experiment also tore away another shred of his already crumbling morality.

It was to be expected. Even an individual at the peak of righteousness could not murder in cold blood time and time again without the act becoming normalized, as if it were a mere fragment of their daily routine. Each splash of blood strewn across their path would become a sight so typical that they would end up becoming utterly desensitized towards their own involvement.

Of course, one would not expect someone so virtuous to go around murdering people—it defied the very notion of what it meant to be virtuous in the first place.

In spite of that, every sin had a purpose to serve. If that person felt that they must murder someone for the greater good—maybe because they deemed them to be evil and deserving of that fate—then that would be all the reason they needed.

It certainly seemed like a valid justification. After all, there weren't many people that truly enjoyed the company of someone that appeared to be evil…or at least, however they chose to define evil.

So, those heroic figures would then walk on what they believed to be a path of justice, slaying all of the wicked scoundrels until the world was as upstanding as they hoped.

However, their morality could only remain intact for so long. No matter how pure their intentions may have been, nor how wholesome their ambitions were—they always ended up falling victim to their inner depravity sooner or later. One might say that the ends did not justify the means, so the hero became just as corrupt as the villain they hoped to defeat, if not worse.

As for how that bore any relation to Marcus…

It may have been an exaggeration to say he was once a saint, but he did possess a fine character and held his values close. He never strayed far from his ethics, and those that personally knew him would have gladly agreed that he was a man of great integrity.

But…perhaps he did not place his virtues on a pedestal as much as he did with his desire for results.

He was a scientific man through and through. With that came a determination to strive for the best results no matter the hardships he needed to endure. Science was a competitive field as it was, but the stakes were even higher within Umbrella, due to the center of their research having been based on the Progenitor virus.

It was an exceptional virus that contained extraordinary potential. With that in his hands, it was no wonder he became enthralled by his research. It was truly only a matter of time before he became enveloped in it entirely, desperate to make a breakthrough by any means necessary.

Even still, for many years his motivations and actions did remain impeccable. He began this work with the belief that someday, he could utilize the benefits of the virus in order to help humanity.

He knew that it was a tremendous undertaking, but he genuinely believed that he could accomplish it and that the world would be better off. The only boon he would have personally gained from this task was the knowledge he'd have received along the way, and that was more than enough for him. His goals were noble, and his intentions were virtuous.

However, somewhere down the line, he reached a point of divergence.

He could have continued on the principled yet idealistic path. Even if it meant his research would arrive at a dead end, and his dream would inevitably wither away. It would have been wasteful, yet honorable nonetheless.

Or, he could have tread upon the blood-soaked path of corruption. The possibilities were truly endless when all boundaries were lifted, without that pesky subconscious voice's attempts to guide you onto a more proper road. When you had countless opportunities at your fingertips, where at least one was guaranteed to be a success…who wouldn't wish to take the chance?

Like the many tainted souls that came before him, Marcus had long since taken his fall from grace. The glimmering light within him was dyed by the all-encompassing darkness, smothered by the pressure of his hefty ambitions.

Was there any hope left for a man such as him? He may have had endless possibilities when it came to future phases of his research, but somewhere within that world of choices…was there a chance for him to find some sort of redemption?

In his current state, likely not. He had no desire for redemption, he only sought results. He would ride this wave of depravity until the end, regardless of where it may lead him. He was far too gone to ever turn back, nor would he have wanted to. This was the path he had chosen, and he was well-aware of the consequences.

And whatever may happen…he would never regret a single thing he had done.

* * *

_December 6__th__, 1977_

* * *

"All right, that should do it…" His voice was low but sharp as it pierced through the chilled air, the only other sound present having been the shrill scrawling of pen on paper. This was followed by a thin stack of papers being set onto the cool steel table, which led to him walking towards the nearby chair and plopping down onto it. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

As much as he would have liked to have a tranquil moment of rest, the frigid temperature of the lab kept him on edge. It was nearly the beginning of what would surely be a bitter winter, if the building's current state was to be trusted.

And while they did have a heating unit—particularly because the lab's location underground as well as the heavily steel interior made such a component a requirement—it was still rather lacking on days like this.

Marcus always did despise these sorts of extreme temperatures. The ideal workplace required a consistent and tolerable climate, not one where he nearly needed to bundle up inside his own lab!

Although, perhaps he shouldn't complain too much. As much as he loathed this weather, he'd time and time again choose an icy winter over a blistering summer…

Complaints aside, he wasn't letting the weather stop his ever-tenacious workflow. He made tremendous progress on the T-virus, thanks to his alterations of the origin virus. This was evident through his most recent experiments, to which he's devoted every bit of his effort into conducting.

In fact, he had just gotten done with another test subject today, along with finishing up his conclusions on the experiment a minute ago.

However, prior to that…

Something had crossed his mind after his tirade of paranoia last month. In order for him to protect the secrecy of his experiments, he thought it would be best if he went about them in a different way. Or, not a different way altogether, but instead simply a more varied method.

Up until now, his subjects have consisted solely of the facility's employees. This had appeared to work best in some manner, due to the relative ease in convincing an employee to partake in the experiment—not that they had actually been aware of the experiment portion...

However, this method appeared as though it may cause complications somewhere down the line. While employees had come and gone over the years, surely _someone_ would eventually take notice of so many having left at once. He came up with relatively reliable excuses to justify the departure of the first three, but his explanations could only last for so long. So, he began to look past the employees…

…Towards the students.

Now, it wasn't as if he was going to use every single student in his experiments. There were only sixteen of them in each year, so only an idiot would believe that he could have gotten away with the entire class mysteriously vanishing. And of course, he had no desire to use Wesker nor Birkin in this way. Their lives possessed much more value than to meet with such horrific fates.

No doubt, he was only capable of using _some_ of the students. He definitely needed to keep the number to a minimum, but it was better than using nothing but employees. Besides, it was quite logical for students to leave the facility from time to time.

Every school has its fair share of dropouts, and the Umbrella Executive Training Facility was no different. Over the years, there had been several students that quit amidst their training, usually at least a few in each year.

The key difference between this school and the others was that this one focused heavily on the many fields of science. Understandably, not everyone was cut out for the complexities involved with these branches, so an occasional deserter was never much of a surprise.

Marcus, for one, was never _surprised_ by the students that quit, but he certainly had less than favorable things to say about those sorts. Why exactly would they have bothered signing up for the school if they were planning on quitting like an absolute imbecile? He felt sorry for the teachers who wasted their time attempting to drill knowledge into those hollow shells that they called a brain…

That said, there hadn't been any dropouts this year, at least as of now. Therefore, no harm could be done if he chose to…_convince_, a few to make their exit, right? This time, he would gladly approve of their sudden departure. Even better, no one should suspect a thing…

After he reached that conclusion, he made haste in continuing his experiments. Towards the end of November, he was able to begin and complete his work on two of the students.

Of course, these experiments did not occur at the same time. The second subject was not obtained until a few days after he finished his work with the first. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the stress of maintaining two zombies simultaneously again, so he thought this would be for the best.

It was easy to enlist their aid, since not many students could rightly refuse a meeting with the director of their school. The rest of the plan unfolded not much unlike the prior experiments. A short conversation followed by taking them by surprise with the sudden injection of the virus. Quite simple, really.

Naturally, he used the newly altered form of the T-virus to do this.

In order to create that new version, he gave the modified Progenitor to a new leech. That leech was then able to assimilate with Progenitor flawlessly, just as the initial one had. It then gave rise to the new version of T, which already appeared to be a great improvement on the original.

The difference that stood out to him most was that the transformation into a zombie had finalized within three days, rather than the customary four. The mutation process clearly had been sped up, as the symptoms practically appeared to hit the subject like a truck.

After the subject's initial collapse, he awoke several hours later to extreme agony, heavy perspiration, and severe irritation. These were no doubt comparable to what the previous subjects had faced, but as far as Marcus could tell, the burden did appear to be much harsher in this instance.

Shortly after, the man once again passed out. This sleep was ostensibly comatose, seeing as he didn't reawaken until the third day. It may have gone without saying, but he became a zombie after this point.

There had been no noteworthy discrepancies between the first and second experiments. The behaviors displayed were relatively the same as the first, and the progression took a mere three days as well.

Nearly a week later, Marcus began an experiment on the third student—which is what he had just finished up with.

After putting the ghastly creature to an eternal slumber, he wrote down his observations and prepared to get rid of the monster. Only this time, he would not be taking a simple trip to the morgue. As he had done with the last two subjects, he instead chose to send the corpses to various Umbrella-owned labs for further testing.

This action surely seemed wholly preposterous, especially considering his earlier bout of paranoia. How could he possibly take such a risk? But to be expected, his plans were not without their reasoning.

In spite of…no, _because_ of his paranoia, it was virtually necessary to take this action.

Putting aside the initial infiltration of his lab, he began to think of things on a grander scale. There was, of course, the possibility of the facility's inhabitants learning of his work. But then, what about Umbrella itself? At this point, even they were likely to start having some suspicions of their own.

If Umbrella truly had an inkling of his research, then his silence would only become incriminating. It would be a telling sign that he was wrapped up in work that only his eyes were permitted to see.

Not only that, but Marcus had yet to reveal anything in regard to his recent findings on Progenitor, never mind the T-virus itself. They surely must have been growing curious by now…

If his incompliance continued, sooner or later, they were bound to take this interest into their own hands. Through the use of spies, cameras, and ploys, they would do whatever necessary in order to learn the truth of his research.

And what they would choose to do with that truth, well…only time could tell, but he certainly had his suspicions.

It was a complex situation, one that lacked a truly miraculous answer that would absolve him of his many troubles. He had little choice but to choose the one action that might give him just a bit of solace…

He would give them a meagre taste of his work, but certainly not the full course.

Therefore, he made the decision of sending the cadavers to Umbrella's various labs. They could study the body however they like, but they would not be able to acquire the T-virus from it, even if they were able to determine that a virus was indeed the cause of the subject's "mysterious illness."

There was, however, the possibility that it would be viewed as outlandish for him to have been in possession of dead bodies to begin with. Yet, in truth, he actually hadn't been too worried about this particular scenario quite as much.

With relative certainty, he did feel that the other lab's staff would have no real justification to believe that _he_ killed those people. As long as they were unaware of this, then his chances of exposure remained slim.

Beyond that, it was far from uncommon for scientists to acquire corpses through other means and then use it for their research. He wouldn't be doing anything out of the ordinary, so most of them likely wouldn't think anything of it.

The use of cadavers had actually been a valuable practice for quite a while, since it allowed scientists in the days of old to gain a much greater understanding of internal anatomy than ever thought possible.

Not only that, but it also gave them the chance to further study any medical conditions that the person had. This created the possibility for them to develop more viable treatments based on their observations.

And because of the many advantages it granted, many of the early scientists were more than eager to make use of it. So eager, in fact, that many of them resorted to swiping the bodies from their very graves in order to conduct their research!

Due to the increased demand as well as the limited number of corpses legally supplied to them—in which those bodies were the remains of executed criminals—the act of robbing graves, while immoral, basically became a necessity.

Marcus undoubtedly sympathized with those dedicated researchers, as he was another one that refused to quit in his pursuit of knowledge. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of it. Perhaps it was merely destiny for all scientists to throw away their ethics for the sake of their research? It was beginning to seem so!

Anyhow… Based on these conclusions, he felt that he should be able to avoid any trouble even with his act of sending the corpses to the other labs.

Plus, he _was_ still enough of a team player to help out his fellow researchers and give them something fascinating to study. As long as they couldn't trace the exact origins of the T-virus and find a way to recreate it—whereas he was exceedingly confident that they could not—then he didn't care one way or another. They could have their fun, he figured.

And again, Umbrella should have been pleased to know that he was doing his part and sharing the wealth of knowledge. If he could get them off of his back, at least for a little while, then that was all that he really cared about.

Even still, he knew they'd find _some_ way to be unsatisfied with this outcome, so they obviously wouldn't give up on their quest to discover the complete truth behind his work.

He'd need to remain on his guard, but that didn't come as a surprise. Umbrella's attempts to infiltrate his lab would only grow bolder throughout the passage of time, while his progress with the T-virus would become even more impressive…

Although, in regard to the _original_ infiltration of his lab… He was beginning to have some doubts concerning his initial theory on the circumstances that had transpired.

The problem was, he had been going about the issue entirely wrong. He was under the impression that a mere student or employee may have discovered his work, which then made no sense as to why they hadn't reported him to the authorities by now.

Due to this flawed train of thought, the entire theory fell apart, causing him to have doubts about the validity of his suspicions.

However, the one theory that he never even considered…was that the person who found his work was already well-aware of the dangerous outcomes associated with it.

In this situation, the culprit would have expected depravity to be at work, so they'd have no reason to report it. Especially if, perchance…they were quite keen on the idea of taking that work for themselves…

…Which was something that may have truly resonated with his old friend, Spencer.

Aside from Bailey, he was the only one left that knew of the virus' potential, in addition to being the only one with the ability to send spies to do his bidding. It was completely conceivable for him to have sent a small group to infiltrate the lab and report back on any irregularities they discovered.

But since Spencer couldn't have known the exact details of Marcus' progress, that would explain the overall lack of visible discrepancies within the lab. He couldn't steal something if he didn't know what he was actually stealing, so any actions he had engaged in would only have been a prelude to his true schemes.

Obviously, the lack of hindsight wasn't enough to stop them from breaking into his file cabinet, though they were still foolish enough to leave evidence of their involvement.

Yet, now that Spencer had discovered what Marcus' T-virus was capable of…what would Spencer himself be capable of?

To sink so low as to steal from one that was once a close friend… Was it something that Spencer could do? It had been so long since Marcus had a conversation with the man, so it was impossible for him to say how far his character had diminished. And yet, if someone did break into his lab in an attempt to find and steal his work…then surely, he already had his answer.

It was not the answer Marcus had hoped for, that much was obvious. But to some extent, for a long time, he may have already expected this sort of outcome. He would merely repress the thought in order to preserve his trust in a formerly dear friend, but…the time for friendship and camaraderie had long since passed.

It was almost laughable, the very idea of it all. If his theory was true, then Spencer was actually going to try to steal his work, and likely had already made attempts to do so.

It seemed so contrary to what Marcus had always known the man to be like. Arrogant, vain, egotistical…but with the skills and intelligence needed to back up those behaviors.

After all, there was a reason behind the two having been sworn rivals ever since their youth. Spencer's talents easily rivaled his own—it was the only reason Marcus was even willing to tolerate that pompous attitude for so long…

And yet, look at how the mighty had fallen. Throughout these many years, Spencer must have been unable to make any breakthroughs in his work, while Marcus was making tremendous leaps within his.

The frustration and enervation of constant failures and lackluster results must have finally gotten to him. For one that had lived a life with nearly nothing but success, it's truthfully surprising that he hadn't been overcome by resentment much sooner. With his shortcomings in combination with his growing temper, he finally made the decision to turn his envious eyes towards Marcus' work…

No matter. If Spencer now fancied a game of trickery and deceit, then it was only fair for Marcus to oblige. He needed to keep his work secret no matter the cost, so if Spencer believed he could change that—he ought to think again.

Marcus would need to be extra cunning in his advancement of the T-virus from now on. Not only was it a necessity to evade detection from the inhabitants of the training facility, but he likewise needed to avoid the watchful eyes of both Umbrella and Spencer himself.

To some, this may have seemed overdramatic, but to Marcus, the facts were clear.

The world had turned against him, and he was the only one capable of keeping it at bay.

…He could only hope it wouldn't soon come crashing down upon him.

* * *

December 9th, 1977

* * *

"What the hell is going on here...?" The gruff voice came out barely above a whisper, with a sense of pure dread resonating from it.

Within his grasp was a single page, one that his intense gaze was fastened to. His dark eyes scanned the page once more to be sure that he hadn't misread it, but the same conclusion was reached yet again.

"…No way, something ain't right here." He shook his head in exasperation before tossing the page onto the sturdy oak table, crossing his arms while in contemplation. But before long, his train of thought was interrupted by his eyes idly trailing over to the dimly-lit screen of a computer's monitor.

"Maybe I ought to contact headquarters about this…"

He briefly considered the idea for only a moment before rolling his eyes, his hand rising to rub the faint stubble on his chin aloofly. "Nah, I doubt those idiots would have any idea either. I'm just gonna have to figure it out myself."

He placed his arms behind his head and leaned back into the silky cushion of his seat, casually propping a foot onto the table in the process.

Despite his prominent ranking as assistant director of the Umbrella Executive Training Facility, Adam Davids was always a rather easygoing and laidback fellow. Many of the staff and even the students could agree that he was an all-around good guy. He was easy to talk to, and with a decent sense of humor on top of it.

In many ways, he served as quite the contrast to the stern director of the school, James Marcus. Even still, there were times when polar opposites made the best of teams, so they could have functioned well as allied managers.

The only problem with that particular idea was that Marcus didn't bother with school management in the slightest. Davids hadn't even seen the man in-person for a few months, but he heard that he would stop by on rare occasions to grab a few things from his office, or something like that.

The other employees tended to take issue with the director's extremely hands-off approach to the job. They'd often complain that Marcus was only allowed to get away with such indolence because of his friendship with the company's founder—though they'd always conveniently forget that Marcus was _also_ a founder of the company.

Davids, on the other hand, didn't care one way or another. Marcus may not have been the best manager, truthfully speaking, but Davids was paid well enough that he didn't mind taking on a bit of an extra burden.

He already had the responsibilities associated with being the assistant director as well as the students' biology and business instructor, so why not take on whatever tasks Marcus neglected too? He was a very work-oriented man and took his career seriously, so he genuinely didn't mind.

Besides, the neglected duties weren't even that much of a hassle. They were primarily ones that just involved checking up on the students and staff, so they weren't exactly strenuous work. Davids had basically always taken care of that anyway, even back in the years when Marcus tried to do it himself.

But surprisingly enough, once Marcus had given up on bothering, he actually ended up giving Davids a raise.

He really wasn't expecting that, seeing as he honestly wasn't doing any more than he originally was. He brought this up with the director, since he couldn't in good conscience accept more money for virtually no reason. But Marcus only said that he was always a hard worker and did more than even needed, so he felt the raise was a necessity. With that sort of reasoning, he really couldn't complain.

He was undoubtedly grateful, too. The extra money could really help, so he'd take whatever he could get. But since he still did feel that the raise wasn't entirely warranted, he ended up taking on even more daily tasks in order to make sure it was a fair trade.

It was plain to see that the man was somewhat of a workaholic, but the other employees certainly didn't mind. It saved them from having to do more work, too.

Perhaps his hardworking nature was part of the reason he was so determined to find the answer to the current dilemma he was faced with. Because while he initially thought nothing of it, he had finally come to the realization that something was, without a doubt, amiss around the training facility.

It seemed that people kept…well, disappearing, to put it frankly. And these weren't just ordinary departures, either.

Obviously, the facility wasn't some sort of prison where you could never leave. People left all the time, whether it was just to go home for vacation, or if it was an employee that decided it was finally time to resign. It wasn't the most exciting career, Davids could admit that, so there were a few that ended up taking their leave. There were even a couple of students that dropped out every now and then, too.

But lately—since the beginning of last month, it seemed— these departures were happening rapidly. None of them gave any prior notice, either.

First it seemed like it was just the employees, since three of them left in a fairly short period of time. But a couple of weeks ago, two students were gone, and then another one left a few days ago.

The paper Davids received today was written by the last student, Martin Royce, announcing he was dropping out. He just left it in his dorm without a word, no one had even seen him leave. Not to mention, the other students didn't even know he was thinking of quitting. He had never mentioned it before, so it came as a surprise to everyone.

Royce wasn't the only one that left numerous mysteries in his wake, however. Even Davids' old buddy Mathews, who had been an employee of the facility since the beginning, just up and left last month. Despite the two being close, he didn't say anything to him about it.

Suffice to say, Davids had been pretty peeved. If Mathews was thinking of leaving, then of course he would understand. But to leave without even giving him any sort of notice? It was not only unprofessional, seeing as Davids was still his superior, but it was also a betrayal, too.

To make matters worse, every call made to Mathews' house went straight to voicemail, and even the letter he sent last month was never given a reply. He was unable to get into contact with him at all, so he was truly helpless in finding out what had caused the man to leave.

It was honestly starting to become downright bizarre. Mathews was always such a friendly guy; even nicer than Davids by far. It made no sense for him to suddenly start ignoring him, especially since their last conversation had ended on a fine note.

As much as Davids wanted to be mad at him for this, he instead could only feel disappointment, as well as confusion.

The only thing he did wonder is that maybe there was a chance Mathews didn't intend to leave like he did, and instead something terrible had happened to him. But how could that have been the case? The facility was free of danger, there was nearly no way of something like that happening. Unless he had gone out to the forest and was injured, but that wouldn't make sense either. He knew well how to defend himself…

He gave a low scoff as he leaned further back into his chair, his eyes wandering towards the trophy of a moose's head that hung on the wall, just above the unlit fireplace. It was a deep brown, and a fairly large size. A menacing gaze could be seen within its dark eyes.

"Feels like just yesterday that we reeled that one in, huh…" A solemn smile formed on his lips as he watched the unmoving creature, reflecting on the day that he had caught it.

Davids always enjoyed hunting, ever since his dad taught him how to do it so many years ago. He had gotten a few more trophies back when he was younger, which remained in his house to this day. But this one in particular was caught not long after he moved into the training facility.

It had been quite a few years since he last went on a hunt, so he was admittedly a bit rusty. But knowing that the facility was located just at the edge of Raccoon Forest, he couldn't help his excitement. He knew there'd be plenty of game for him to catch, and he wouldn't even need to travel far to do it.

It was a great opportunity to refresh his skills, and he was even able to use his services to supply many delicious meals to the facility's inhabitants over the years.

As for that moose trophy, it was the first catch he made after moving here. To be expected, he was a little out of practice, but he got caught up quickly enough.

Besides that, he didn't do it alone. He had help from Mathews, who he met shortly after they began their work at the facility. The two had hit it off right away, with their chats and visits to the facility's bar becoming a frequent pastime during their breaks. Then eventually, hunting was another hobby they were able to add to the list.

Davids still remembered when he first asked Mathews to join him for a hunt. He had asked it so casually, which completely took Mathews by surprise. He didn't understand what was so shocking about it, but apparently the man had never even hunted before, so it must have seemed like a really unusual question.

Mathews' reaction was the most surprising part of it to Davids, but that was likely since he came from a long line of hunters. Many of his friends growing up were the same way, so it was a very ordinary part of his life.

Still, despite his lack of experience, Mathews was willing to give it a try. Davids took it upon himself to teach him, but they actually ended up discovering that the man was a real natural at it. With their talents combined, it didn't take long for them to make a great catch.

To add to the exhilaration, he still remembered the expressions of the employees when the two dropped the headless moose onto the dining hall's table. All of the color had drained from their faces the instant they had seen it. None of them had a clue as to how to cook it, either, but Davids didn't mind doing it himself.

Over the years, he had fancied himself as a pretty decent chef. And once everyone had their share of his cooking, they all could gladly agree.

Even the director showed up for the meal, too. It was shocking, since he was already often cooped up in either his office or the lab by this point. Likewise, he almost never ate with the rest of the group, but upon Davids' request, he surprisingly was willing to.

The thought of dining on a moose was fairly odd to him, as it was to the other residents, but even he ended up enjoying it quite a bit. It was rather amusing to see the contrast of his expression going from the initial concern to an unexpected delight.

Overall, it was definitely an entertaining day, one that he could always look back on fondly. He was actually hoping to go on another hunt with his pal soon, but…perhaps it wasn't in the stars this time.

He hated feeling sorry for himself, so he tried to avoid the thought altogether. But every now and then it forced itself into his mind, making him feel bad all over again. It became particularly prominent in his contemplations lately, since he was so preoccupied with the whole vanishing occupant issue. After all, Mathews wasn't the only person to leave, although he _was_ the first.

Davids didn't know the other two employees that left all that well, so there wasn't much he could say about them. The only thing he did know is that apparently the one, Midge, had gotten real sick and needed to be taken to a hospital in an emergency evacuation. Keith supposedly caught the same sickness from him, so he was evacuated too.

For the most part, their reasons for leaving did appear to be valid, but something still didn't seem right here. What kind of illness was so bad that they got it and needed to be sent to a hospital within a mere few days? From what he heard, the symptoms were absolutely terrible, too. It couldn't have been an ordinary cold, and maybe not even the flu.

But why were those two the only ones to catch it? And why did they seem to get it not long after Mathews left? And did it have anything to do with the students that were suddenly dropping out? Those three weren't said to be sick, so it may have been unrelated, but…

Unfortunately, there were too many questions left without answers. And since he had only straws to grasp on, his investigation didn't seem like it would get him very far. Along with the fact that no one else had any clue as to what exactly was going on, Davids was running severely low on options.

He considered abandoning the issue entirely, in hopes that there actually wasn't anything to worry about and it was all a mere coincidence. But then, on that same note, that scenario was incredibly unlikely. Even if it was as simple as them leaving because they were fed up and couldn't deal with the facility any longer, that was still a problem in itself.

Headquarters had always been great at finding useless students and even the occasional rotten employee, but this many at once? This was just awful, and he'd definitely need to have a word with them in that case. But, before that…there was still one person that he hadn't asked.

"Hmph… I doubt he knows anything either. He barely even knows any of the employees, never mind the students. But I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask…" He muttered to himself as he sat up straight, lightly stretching his muscular arms afterwards.

He swept his disheveled black bangs away from his eyes before reaching for the phone across the table. Upon dialing the number, he waited for an answer, but it never came. Dialing it again provided the same result, causing him to release a small sigh.

Marcus did have a phone in the laboratory's building, from what Davids could remember, but it was possible that he didn't have one in his actual lab room. With how devoted the man was to his research, he was probably in there all day, every day. It was conceivable that he may never pick up…

It was quite the predicament. He could have just called it a day and abandoned the idea to ask Marcus. That probably would have made more sense, seeing as the chance of the man having any clue was extremely implausible. But then again…could he have known something?

Marcus had been the one who witnessed Midge in his ailing state and then called for the helicopter to pick him up, so he clearly saw how bad the man's condition was. And since he was so knowledgeable in virology, maybe he could tell if Midge's condition was caused by some type of virus?

If it really was just a simple case of the flu, then that would be understandable enough. That information could help to solve the case with Midge and Keith, if nothing else.

As for Mathews, he couldn't imagine Marcus would know anything about that. More than likely, Mathews just totally bailed and went back home, never to bother with the school again. He didn't know what could have caused that change of heart, but apparently, he would _never_ know…

The same could be said of the students, it was unimaginable that Marcus would know anything. He obviously wasn't a fan of associating with the students, so he probably didn't even realize that any of them were missing. It was just another mystery that may never be solved...

But one solution out of three wasn't so bad, so it seemed worthwhile enough to get Marcus' input on it. The man didn't seem like he'd be answering the phone any time today, though, so that would be a problem. Davids really just wanted to get this situation done and over with so he could go back to focusing on his own work, so the sooner he took care of it—the better.

"It's still early…" He spoke while directing his gaze towards the nearby clock, noting that it was only past two in the afternoon.

He crossed his arms before giving a slight grimace. "The director was never really a fan of having visitors, but…this is technically important business." He continued to contemplate it for a few seconds, stuck between his initial idea to wait until Marcus picked up the phone or to just visit the lab himself. Perhaps it was against his better judgement, but he opted for the latter choice.

He stood and stretched a bit as he prepared to leave his office. The laboratory was located just below the church, which was behind the school. It was a bit of a walk from his office, but he didn't mind at all. He had been in that stuffy room all day, so he could use the extra exercise anyway.

He did go to the lab a few times in the past, generally to speak of other work-related inquiries that were best discussed in-person.

As he said, Marcus didn't like to have company all that much, but he never made that big of a deal over it. Generally, it just took him by surprise—during the few times Davids was unable to let him know about the visit in advance—but he would get over it quickly enough. He figured it would probably unfold the same way this time as well.

* * *

_Ding!_

The high-pitched sound was followed by the mechanical hum of doors sliding apart. Davids slowly emerged from the elevator, taking a quick glance around to observe his surroundings. After a moment, he spoke in a low voice.

"Awfully quiet in here, but he's gotta be around somewhere..." He muttered under his breath, finally shaking his head with a half-shrug. "Well, only one way to find out."

He crossed the narrow corridor lined with various paintings, quickly reaching the door at the end. Unsurprisingly, the door had two statues lining both sides of it. Both were crafted in the image of an elegantly dressed, beautiful woman. The director always did love his art...

As a matter of fact, there was a room in the school building filled with nothing but piles of paintings and a few statues. Marcus probably wanted to hang them around somewhere, but the school was pretty packed as it was, and he could imagine the lab was probably the same way by now.

Honestly, Marcus did seem like a bit of a hoarder when it came to art, but Davids didn't judge him for it. There were worse things to hoard, at the least.

That aside, he knocked on the door in front of him and waited for a few seconds, but there was no answer. He considered walking away and trying another door, but seeing as this was Marcus' office, he used to be in there pretty often. Plus, it led to another door in the back, so it was possible that he was in that room and just didn't hear him knocking.

He decided to enter anyway, with hopes that the director wouldn't be peeved if he _was_ in there.

"Hey, Director Marcus?" He called out as he turned the knob and stepped in, taking a quick peek to determine if anyone had been around. It was hard to see because of the dim lighting of the room, but he appeared to be alone.

He took a few more steps, and as he turned the corner, he saw a much brighter source of light emanating from the back of the room. Once he walked closer, he saw that it was a large aquarium, glowing with a radiant blue light. There were a few things swimming around eagerly, but it took him a few seconds to recognize what they actually were.

"Are those…" He squinted as he leaned forward, mumbling, "leeches?" As he continued to observe the skinny little creatures whirling about, they definitely did seem to be leeches.

After a minute, he gave a low chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. "I mean…most people probably prefer a goldfish, but I guess that's fine too. At least he's keeping himself busy, eh?"

There was nothing else of interest within the room, mostly just Marcus' cluttered desk and a bunch of ornaments and the like. He decided to knock on the door towards the back of the room, but again, there had been no answer. He took a quick peep inside, but he only saw more art objects lying about. And oddly enough, there was also a bed.

Considering Marcus never bothered to go back to the facility to sleep, that probably checked out. All of this time, Davids had just thought the man must have been falling asleep at his desk! This realization made a lot more sense.

Having figured that there was nothing left to do in these rooms, Davids returned to the hallway. He didn't bother checking the cable car platform, since that only led to another Umbrella factory. It was unlikely that Marcus would have had any business there, so there was no need to worry about it.

He did investigate the other room in the hall, however, which led to a small study. There were some interesting books about the sciences on the shelves—including a few that Davids wouldn't mind reading some time—but besides that, Marcus was nowhere to be found.

He finally decided to just go upstairs, in which the semi-spiral staircase ran directly into one of the lab rooms. This was the smaller lab, only containing a few shelves lined with chemicals and tools, along with a computer on the opposite side of the room.

Typically, the lab manager, Savage, would be around here. But Davids recalled that the man was off today, probably relaxing with a drink at the facility's bar.

Still, Marcus wasn't here either. There were a few more rooms on this floor, so he should be around somewhere. It would certainly be problematic if he actually _wasn't_ in the building, though…

He left the room, thus arriving in another hallway. One of the rooms led to a storage room, which did possess a lot of cages in varied sizes. Marcus must have been doing some sort of animal research, he figured.

Another room led to the upper level of the cable car platform, which was again, not needed.

The final door in the hall led to the larger lab, which Davids thought for sure Marcus would be in. But a swift glance revealed that his theory was wrong, so he chose not to linger. He instead went through the door directly in front of him.

This room was mostly an extension of the lab, or something along those lines. There were a few more shelves with tools and scientific machines, along with a few operating tables. There was no sign of Marcus in there, and even now, Davids still couldn't perceive any movement, speaking, or anything.

There was only one room left, so if Marcus wasn't in there, then this trip would have been a total waste of time.

Walking towards that door in the center of the room, he took a deep breath, slowly turning the knob…

"Director Marcus…?" His voice was hushed as he began to step through the door, his eyes peering as he discerned the area. For some reason, the atmosphere itself began to feel awfully… bleak, and cold.

The dreary lighting only added to the sense of gloom that enveloped the area, aided by the dull grey of the cabinets covering the walls.

Then, perhaps the most noticeable sense he got…was that there was a weak but grotesque smell permeating the air, a scent of pure rot. What could cause a laboratory to smell so…abysmal?

"What's going on in here…?" He mumbled aloud, scrutinizing the room for any sense of purpose it may have possessed. But the only thing that stood out were the many cabinets that sat in place, housing what he would imagine to have been files…

…Only that wasn't the case.

Each drawer had a large window in the center of it, which wasn't something he had typically seen on file cabinets. It provided a clear view of the items inside, allowing him to see that most of the drawers were empty. But as he walked past them, keeping his eye on each window, eventually—he saw one that wasn't vacant.

He subconsciously gulped, an intense anxiety beginning to make its way into his chest. He couldn't know for sure what was in that dark, lumpy object behind the glass, but he had a very bad feeling about it.

"No…there's no way… Why would…" His inner thoughts spilled out, greatly adding to his rising sense of unease. But he knew that there was no use in asking questions. The only way to find out…was to open it.

While he slowly extended his arm towards the handle of the drawer, he began to anxiously bite his lip for only a moment. As soon as his grip was on the handle, he jerked the door open with one swift motion, nearly ripping it off of its hinges as it clattered against the drawer to its side.

That turned out to be a mistake, as a pungent smell of festering meat immediately washed over him, causing him to gag while his eyes instantly began to water.

"Good God…" He choked out, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands while the other held his nose. "Why the hell is something like this here—wh…why does the director have this?!"

He couldn't contain the volume of his voice when faced with the countless questions that flooded through his mind. There was no doubt, something was in that bag…

Something that was once alive.

He desperately wanted to think of a logical and sane reason for something like this—to think of anything that would prove he was merely overreacting.

The director had been doing animal experiments, so maybe it was just that he kept the deceased bodies in there. Even that would have been strange, but then again, if he just needed them for further research…

But…that wasn't in the form of any ordinary lab animal. It was much too large, and it even appeared to be covered in lumps, as if the body was just shoved in there.

Throughout his search for answers, there was one thing that continued to flash through his mind…

…The missing staff.

As much as he wanted to get out of there immediately, he knew very well that he may have just stumbled upon the answer he was searching for all along. For the sake of his duty as the assistant director of the training facility…he had no choice. He needed to see this through to the end.

He grasped the table that the bag-like object sat on, then slowly pulled, sliding it out enough so that he could have a complete view.

In its entirety, it was clear that it was a bulky black bag, with a small zipper at the very top of it. There was nearly no doubt left in his mind at this point, but he took the zipper in his hand, slowly pulling it down…

Even more of that godforsaken smell poured out, causing him to swiftly turn his head by reflex. But as his gaze gradually returned, he saw it.

It was a head.

And not only a head, but one that was rotten nearly beyond recognition. But the strangest thing was, it hadn't looked decomposed—not in the ordinary sense. It almost was like…it was never human to begin with.

The hair was thin and frayed, while the skin was a ghastly grey color. There were many tears in the skin, exposing the foul flesh. And the expression was one unlike anything he had ever seen, it was purely…monstrous.

Having been in the biology field, he did need to work with dead bodies before. But this…this wasn't right. This couldn't have been a typical case of using regular cadavers, _something_ had been done to this person.

"Wait a minute… Could it be...?" Upon taking a closer look at the body—much to his nose's dissatisfaction—he got a sense of familiarity from it.

It appeared to be…Dennis Midge.

He truly did wish that he was only imagining things, and that perhaps the smell simply had him becoming delirious. But there was no doubt, he remembered seeing Midge around quite a few times, and this corpse looked just like him. Or, well…a putrefied version of him.

"But…if that's Midge, then…" The color poured out of his face at that moment, a realization dawning on him. He immediately turned around, rapidly scanning the array of containers until one stood out to him.

There was another body.

He ran towards it and thrust the door open, wholly disregarding the metallic clang as he slid the table out.

"God, please don't tell me…" His voice shook while he uttered the same few words to himself continuously. He gradually reached his hand towards the zipper, finally faced with the realization of the director's doings. The truth behind everything was…

_Clang!_

All faded to black.

* * *

"Unbelievable! The one time I just _happen_ to not lock all of the doors before leaving, then _this_ happens. Does anything ever work in my favor?" He grumbled as his fist pounded onto the table, a frustrated groan escaping his lips afterwards.

He quickly stood and paced towards the small chamber in the corner of his room, giving a low sigh upon the sight of the man that remained unconscious. He grimaced as he returned to his chair, placing a hand on his temple while he began to think.

"If nothing else, this does mean that I've discovered the pesky rat that's been sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. But to think, it was Davids of all people?" He muttered to himself, sounding almost offended at the thought. "I hadn't even expected the possibility, but I should have known. He's the assistant director, of course he would start to have concerns over the missing staff…"

He cursed himself for failing to think of such an obvious outcome. It would have made more sense to have gotten rid of Davids to begin with, but instead, he let him wander around completely unattended! He truly did bring this upon himself, so now it was time for him to remedy it.

But before all of this, Marcus had been having an ordinary day. He hadn't conducted any new experiments yet, as he was attempting to lay low for a bit, due to the whole spy issue. He eventually decided that he needed to grab a few things from the school facility, so he did leave for a short period of time. Although, of course, he forgot to lock the doors first.

He only realized it once he was already in the school, but knowing that he would only take about fifteen minutes, he really didn't think anything could happen so suddenly. He was even certain that his lab was completely vacant before he left. Savage hadn't been there today, so everything should have been fine. But clearly, nothing ever worked out so easily for him.

As soon as he returned to the upper level of the laboratory, he heard some sort of clanging from one of the rooms. He immediately rushed to his personal lab room, but surprisingly, no one was there. But as he entered the neighboring room, it became clear to him that the culprit had been rummaging around in the morgue. So, he did what any rational and intellectual person would do…

…He grabbed a metal tray and as soon as he opened the door, he walloped the culprit over the head.

Marcus really didn't have much time to think about it in the moment, so he didn't even recognize the man at first. But he was at least thankful that the man didn't recognize him, either, as he was much too busy panicking over the dead bodies. Honestly, he was clearly very good at concentrating, seeing as he was so focused on the body that he hadn't even heard that accursed creaky door.

But…perhaps Davids wouldn't have considered that level of concentration to have been much of a boon in this case.

Well, nevertheless. After knocking him out, Marcus dragged him back into the lab and placed him into the sterilization chamber. To be expected, he then injected him with the T-virus, so his days were surely numbered.

It was truthfully a shame; he always did like Davids to an extent. He was friendly enough, and he was more than happy to take on a role more akin to what Marcus' job should have been.

In reality, Davids was more so the actual director of the training facility. Marcus gave that status up long ago, so at this point it belonged to him in name only. Yet, Davids never once complained about the extra work he needed to do as a result…

There was no use fretting over it. It was clear to him now that this was bound to happen at some point, because Davids had too much control. He could easily realize that people were disappearing rapidly, because _he_ was in charge of keeping track of everyone.

…The truth was, Davids' death was nothing more than an inevitability of fate.

Marcus soon began to ponder when the man would wake up. It had been a few hours since he knocked him out, along with the injection of the virus, so typically this would be around the time the subject would awaken. He would need to prepare himself for an outburst of screaming and cursing, he supposed…

Then, as if on cue, he began to hear a faint rustling from the man's location, followed by a few strained coughs. Within seconds, the man started to rise.

He was hunched over and holding his stomach, surely already feeling the effects of the improved T-virus. His hair messily obscured his face, rendering his expression unreadable. But Marcus was already well-aware of what the man's reaction would be, so it really didn't matter.

An anger-induced rant of pure rage clearly awaited…

"So, you've finally awoken." He asserted as he turned towards the chamber, grabbing a tablet and a pen before standing. "Good, I need to know what business you had for snooping around my lab while I was away." His calm expression shifted into a scowl as he approached the glass, staring at the pained man with disgust. "Or, rather, who it is that you're working for."

The man had no reaction at first, but at the last sentence, suddenly stepped back. He swept his hair aside, revealing a look of both discomfort and bewilderment. "Who…I'm working for?" His eyebrow rose, while he tilted his head in confusion. "Director Marcus, I, I don't… I was just…the missing staff, and…" He strained to get each word out, with most of it sounding more like random fragments of gibberish.

His hazy stare slothfully shifted to the side, causing him to witness something he hadn't even noticed when he momentarily entered the room previously.

A few feet away from him was a large case containing some sort of clear fluid, along with what appeared to be a man's body standing within it. His vision was too blurred to make it out, but even in his disoriented state, he knew it must have been one of the missing individuals.

"That's right… Mathews, was he…?" He muttered wearily, continuing his attempts to focus on the specimen, but soon after gave up. There was no way he could concentrate well enough right now, so even if that was his friend, he wouldn't know.

On top of the extraordinary aching he felt throughout his body, his head was spinning relentlessly, along with an intense pounding within it. He was using the last of his strength to stand, so that he could at least find some sort of closure to all of this, but he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold out…

Marcus could barely make out most of his words, but he could see that the man didn't have an actual answer to his question. Though surprisingly enough, he wasn't shouting, and seemed to be rather composed. He supposed that could be attributed to the man's current state of weakness, although even the most recent subjects were able to throw a tantrum for at least a little while.

He sighed, putting the thought aside, but then acknowledged the name that was mentioned. "Mathews?" He placed a hand on his chin, believing it to be somewhat familiar before the realization finally occurred to him. "Oh yes… Kyle Mathews, was it? He was my first test subject. Why do you ask?"

Upon noticing that the man had been despondently staring towards the specimen case, he figured that he understood the purpose. "Him? No no, that's not Mathews. That one was…Keith, I believe."

He grimaced, shaking his head at the reminder. "Ugh… I must say, I absolutely was _not_ a fan of that one. Which is why it's especially aggravating that I have nowhere else to put him right now. I obviously can't leave him anywhere that Savage will find him, so I'm stuck with him in here…"

Davids listened to his rant with a vacant stare, having no change in expression other than a small breath of relief. But it was only a slight reprieve to know that his friend wasn't the dead body standing a mere few feet away. If that wasn't Mathews, then that second body in the morgue must have been…

As Marcus ended his rambling, he focused his irritation onto Davids instead, raising a brow along with an irked frown. "Wait a moment, why do you even need to ask? You're merely a spy sent by Spencer, likely the same one that raided my lab last month. You obviously know all about my test subjects, don't you?"

Davids looked up, his eyes widening with a solemn expression. "Spencer?" He questioned before giving a weak shake of his head. "I don't… I don't know what you're talking about, seriously…" He finally collected his bearings enough to get a full sentence out, in which his confusion was clear.

"Look, I…I shouldn't have gone in your lab, I know… I just wanted to ask you…about the missing staff." He took a deep breath as he began to sweat, his fatigue growing rapidly. "I heard the two were sick, so I thought…you may have known something, since you're real good with that type of stuff. But…" He gave a strained chuckle, followed by a fit of coughing. "Looks like I caught that same sickness now…didn't I?"

Marcus rolled his eyes at the comment, crossing his arms. "As if you hadn't already expected me to be the culprit behind their disappearance. Do you honestly believe I have no idea about all of your true feelings towards me?"

He scoffed, turning away in disgust. "Every single one of you… I know the words you speak of behind my back. You all have viewed me as some sort of lunatic for such a long time—long before I even thought to commit these acts. Even your friend Mathews felt the same way, so I'm certain that I was the first to come to mind once you realized they were missing."

"That's not true!" He spoke in a raised voice for the first time, taking the other man by surprise. But he quickly calmed down, meekly shaking his head. "I mean… I can't deny that I was aware of the things the others have said… But I know for a fact that Mathews never agreed with them, and I never did either. I always thought you were a good guy, you know? A little unsociable, sure, but good nonetheless…"

At that, Marcus fell silent. It was very possible that the man was merely saying this because of the situation that he found himself in, so he was simply trying to convince Marcus to somehow save him. And yet…the sincerity that he spoke with was a source of concern.

It almost sounded like…he may have been telling the truth.

It's true that Davids always had been friendly to him, and he never gave Marcus any reason to believe that he harbored ill will. Unless he was only faking that kindness the entire time, but…it never seemed that way.

As for Mathews, well… It may have been possible that he had misinterpreted his feelings. After all, when he called Marcus a psychopath, that _was_ at the time where he was dying as a result of Marcus experimenting on him. It was…conceivable, that he may have only felt that way in that particular moment…

He began to bite his lip; a newly formed turmoil being waged from within. Was it possible that Marcus had been wrong all along? Was this man truly telling the truth…?

His judgements that he believed to be infallible may have just shattered, leaving him utterly unaware of what to believe.

His findings…had fallen apart.

"I… It doesn't matter." He spoke sharply as he returned to his desk. "Regardless of how you feel, the damage is already done. Your friend is already dead, and soon enough, you will be too. You'd be better off bracing yourself for the pain to come. I can assure you that it will not be a peaceful end." His callous words were betrayed by an anguished grimace, but it had gone unseen by the other man.

"Yeah…I thought so." He looked down, already feeling the effects of the virus in an abundance. The pain was only getting worse each moment that passed, but he couldn't let it end, not like this. There was one thing he needed to do…one last thing.

After a few minutes, he spoke in a low voice. "Hey, Director Marcus…could I ask you for a favor?"

He was alarmed by the sudden dialogue, but didn't turn away from his desk, scribbling something onto a tablet. "If it's to reverse the effects of the virus, then that's not something I am capable of. The T-virus has no known cures at this time."

"Nah, that's not what I wanted to ask…" He gave a weak smile in an attempt to fight the grief he felt from those words. Even if he had expected it, hearing it outright did sting a little. Still, it wasn't the time to worry about that.

"I don't expect you to do it, but…" He paused, coughing once before continuing, "could you maybe…write a letter to my wife?"

The clatter from his pen falling to the table could be heard as his eyes widened. A sharp pang of guilt suddenly pierced his chest as his frown grew deeper. "…I wasn't aware that you were married."

"Yeah, her name's Maria. We've been married for…what is it, thirteen years now?" His smile grew from the memory, even though a clear sadness was evident in his eyes. "We have a daughter, too, our little Stella…" His smile widened as he then took a step back, leaning against the wall for extra support. "She just turned ten in September. It sure felt surreal, knowing she was already getting so much older. They really do grow up so fast… Feels like we just had her yesterday…"

Marcus began to wonder if the man was doing this on purpose, deliberately trying to make him feel ashamed. Even if it was warranted, he still didn't like the feeling. He hurriedly spoke up, largely so that he wouldn't need to hear any more of it.

"What do you expect me to write in this letter?" He asked sharply, his gaze remaining fastened to the papers before him.

"Ah, nothing too fancy, I suppose…" He raised a hand to rub his chin as he thought about it. "Mainly just that I love them, but that I won't be able to come home again…"

"I won't allow anything that would incriminate myself." He warned as he quickly turned, sending a cold glare towards the man.

"Yeah, I know." He spoke in agreement, scratching his arm lightly. "Just tell 'em it happened 'cause of one of my hunting trips." He chuckled, looking down sadly. "My wife always hated me going on those. She swore I'd end up getting myself killed one of these days. Hate to prove her right, but…"

Silence enveloped the room for a moment, but then Davids spoke up again. "Oh, right… And could you tell her that I'm really sorry I won't be able to provide for them anymore? They'll be able to live off of my savings for a little while, but after that… I can only pray that they'll be able to stay on their feet."

…There was that feeling again, that loathsome aching within his chest. He was so certain that he had put such useless feelings aside—that he needed no foolish sympathy to hold him back from accomplishing his goals. And yet, here he was, stuck in the same position he had longed to escape.

He almost had done it, he hardly felt even a shred of guilt over the last few test subjects. But now, knowing that he was truly ruining not only the life of his subject, but the subject's family, as well… He was unable to sit there and feel nothing, as much as he despised the sensation.

His weakness was truly detestable. He questioned if he would ever be free of his trifling sentiments so that he could do his work in peace. But regrettably, today was not that day…

"…I will prolong your salary, so that you may continue to have your wages sent to your family."

"Wait…huh?" He reflexively leaned forward, raising his brows at the comment. "Are…are you serious?" He mumbled in utter disbelief. "I don't understand… Why would you do that?"

After a minute of silence, Marcus finally exhaled in resignation. "I won't apologize for what I have done. We both know that it would be futile, for my actions could never be remedied. Beyond that, your death was necessary to not only advance my work, but also to ensure that the truth of it never comes to light. And yet…"

He paused for a brief moment, then stood and turned towards the man. "No matter how far I have fallen, I still cannot bring myself to relinquish the entirety of the guilt I feel towards my own actions. Due to this…it truly is the least I could do." He gave a warm smile of reassurance, even if he didn't feel he deserved to smile, given the circumstances.

"Wow… I don't really know what to say, but…" He formed a smile of his own, one filled with genuine relief. "Just…thank you, Director Marcus."

The gratitude came as a great surprise to him, so he immediately shifted so that the man wouldn't see his unease. But even aside from that, the statement was completely confusing. Illogical, even!

"…How can you thank the man who singlehandedly ruined the lives of both you and your family?" He spoke quietly, unable to resist asking the obvious question.

Even if thanking someone was the natural reaction when they did a favor for you, it made no sense to do it in this case. Favor or not, their lives would be forever altered for the worse because of his actions. Surely Davids could have—and should have—forgone the courtesy this time…

"Yeah, might be a little weird…" He agreed, coughing a few times afterwards. "But…you didn't need to do either of those things for me, but you said you would anyway. I don't believe you're lying, so…at least if I gotta die, I can die knowing that my girls'll be all right."

Despite his grave words, he had been smiling throughout. His love for his family truly shone through, enough so that even Marcus could see it.

Such strong feelings for one's family… It was something that Marcus never truly felt, as he had no wife nor kids of his own. But it was clear that Davids' love for his family allowed him to put their safety far above his concern for himself.

Even in his time of dying, he was more worried about how they'll be able to survive without him. It was quite…touching.

Was there something about having a family that caused someone to become a better person? It almost appeared to give them a high sense of altruism, or at least that seemed to be the outcome in Davids' case.

Then again… Ashford was always a very kind and selfless person, and he too, was close to his family. Marcus hadn't spoken to him as much in later life, but those behaviors didn't seem to change from the few times he did see him. In fact, it was possible that he had become even nicer after he had his son. Maternal instincts may have been the key here…

In a strange series of circumstances, Marcus began to genuinely envision how his life may have been altered if he had children. Would even he have been a better person as a result? He wasn't so sure if he even held any parental instincts, truthfully. But it was conceivable that only the act of actually having children could awaken those, so maybe…

Well, there was no use wasting time worrying about it, he supposed. He was fifty-nine years old, so the time for children had obviously passed him by. Nonetheless, he did gain a more positive outlook on the idea. Maybe it wasn't the utter waste of time that he had deemed it to be back then…

Marcus returned to his seat at the desk, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper along with a pen. "Alright, what am I writing here?" He questioned the man behind him, who then began to explain the precise words he wanted to express.

…

On this day, another life had been prepared to meet its end. It was truly a shame, as it was one that had much left to live for. A man who would unfairly leave behind his wife and daughter, never even to see the latter as she grows up and pursues her own dreams…

Yet, this was only another consequence of Marcus' ambition. Even if he needed to ruin the lives of both his subjects and those that were guilty by association, in the end…it didn't matter, for it would bring him one step closer to this madness' finale.

He was already beginning to see the fruits of his research…

…Both the ripe, and the rotten.


End file.
